


Drabbles (SouMako)

by Supreme_Thunder



Category: Free!
Genre: Cute, Drabbles, M/M, Smutty, also they're one shots and not connected to each other so dont look for continuity, not all of them will be nsfw but just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 49,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supreme_Thunder/pseuds/Supreme_Thunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where I'll be dumping my drabbles about my two adorabara children (lol sorry that was an awful pun but I couldn't help myself), and other pairings that I happen to write about.<br/>The ratings vary from drabble to drabble. They're not all explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Makoto's 21st Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt by ricegodess: 
> 
> Sousuke: You sure can eat a lot.  
> Makoto: I like eating sweet foods, though it’s a tad embarrassing to say that.
> 
> An Encounter on a Winter Day - Free! Drama CD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the art of bobchalatte: http://bobachalatte.tumblr.com/post/120747420140/saso
> 
> Rated E for Explicit Cake-Eating.

“Come on, Makoto. You said chocolate’s your favorite right? That you can’t get enough of it?” Sousuke smirks at his blushing boyfriend. His eyes glitter devilishly as they devour Makoto’s exposed body, sitting on the floor on his knees, his eyes filling up with tears of embarrassment, his lips twitching with some unknown emotion. 

“S-Sousuke…I…This is too…I can’t…I mean…I’m so embarrassed…How can you expect me to…?” Despite the shyness, Makoto licks his lips, eagerly eyeing Sousuke’s chest and stomach, which are slathered in what used to be a slice of Makoto’s birthday cake all but 5 minutes ago.

Chocolate mousse with strawberries on top. So delicious. Makoto’s already had 2 slices, but if he’s honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind another one…

Sousuke knows the way Makoto’s lust unfolds by now.

When they first started having sex, Makoto was shy to the extent of being prudish. But Sousuke soon learned how to coax the sexy minx out of his shell. All the brunet ever needed was a little push in the right direction, and he’d lose himself to waves of pleasure, spending hours in bed with Sousuke, always hungry for more.

Sousuke had not planned out this birthday sex involving cake for Makoto beforehand. It started with a bit of teasing after their friends were all gone, and the two of them were left alone with some leftover chocolatey goodness. Makoto started it really- trying to get Sousuke to eat some more, Sousuke being all coy and refusing because he didn’t have much of a sweet tooth to begin with, agreeing to it only if Makoto let him eat the cake directly from his mouth.

And then one thing led to another, and now Sousuke’s on the floor of Makoto’s cramped Tokyo apartment, naked, with cake smeared all over his body, and Makoto sitting between his legs, inching closer little by little, his lips parted, his breathing a bit heavy…

It’s all hazy and a bit vague, but a second later, Sousuke’s head fills up with white light as Makoto’s body makes contact with his. The brunet is on all fours, balancing his arms on the floor on either side of Sousuke’s torso, hovering over him.

Though their eyes meet in mutual desire, Makoto doesn’t come in for a kiss, doesn’t say a word- just starts licking Sousuke’s chest, with tentative flicks of his little pink tongue.

Just like an overgrown cat.

And Sousuke feels his cock throbbing uncomfortably at the image he conjures up in his head.

Makoto with cat ears, his tail swishing around above his perfect butt (a little plump, ever so firm, and oh so fuckable) as he licks every inch of Sousuke’s body.

And Makoto starts turning this fantasy into a reality (at least the non-cat bits), by moving further down Sousuke’s body, slurping up the melty icing as it trickles down the hollow of Sousuke’s navel, into the neatly trimmed patch of raven hair surrounding his erection, and all the way down to the main event.

The icing hasn’t exactly made its way down to Sousuke’s cock yet, so Makoto takes matters into his own hands. Pushing Sousuke’s down onto the floor, he turns around so that his back to Sousuke’s face. He slides his ass up Sousuke’s stomach, all the way to his chest, so that his pink entrance is right in Sousuke’s line of sight.

Sousuke’s cock twitches even more when he notices that Makoto is slick and dripping on his chest already.

Makoto takes a handful of chocolate icing from Sousuke’s body, and slathers it all over his erection, before bending over and tasting it.

The slow, sliding feel of Makoto’s tongue drives Sousuke out of his sense, and he grabs a hold of Makoto’s hips, pulling the little pink asshole closer to his mouth, and tasting it with an eager tongue.

Makoto lets out a little yelp before he pushes himself even further back on Sousuke’s body, until he is draped all over Sousuke, and his head is bobbing up and down on Sousuke’s cake-covered cock.

As Sousuke slides his fingers inside him- one then two then three- stretching out his asshole, Makoto’s movements become even more erratic. He starts moving his hips back and forth, rubbing his hardness against Sousuke’s icing-covered abs, moaning like a cat in heat, though the sound is muffled because of the way his mouth is completely full. With Sousuke and with cake. His two most favorite things.

When Sousuke cums inside his mouth, Makoto pushes himself back again, taking Sousuke’s fingers as deep inside him as he can, cumming all over his boyfriend’s taut stomach before collapsing on top of him.

Before he has time to catch his breath, Makoto feels the sting of Sousuke’s hand slapping his ass.

“Annh! Sou, lemme rest a bit…”

“Not a chance you naughty little kitty. You’re gonna have to clean up the mess you made.”

“Only if you promise to give me my _real_ present after, Sou.”

“Oh you can count on it, Mako-chan. I have no intention of going home tonight.” And Sousuke seals his promise to Makoto with another resounding smack on his boyfriend’s perky butt.

And Makoto places a shy little kiss on the head of Sousuke’s cock, before starting to lick up the heady mix of cum and chocolate from his lover’s body, smiling to himself and thinking that this has to be the best possible way to spend his 21st birthday.

 

 

 

 

  


	2. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "Nothing is sexier than someone who wants you as much as you want them." -Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for Touching and Kissing.

It starts slowly, on the way back from their third date at the aquarium, standing too close to each other on the train, their bodies pushed together by the throng.   
  
Makoto giggles a little shyly, averting his eyes from Sousuke’s burning gaze.   
  
Sousuke coughs and pretends to hide the desire flooding through his body, pouring out of his eyes, a bit too obvious in the way he stares down at Makoto. The blushing cheeks, the reddening tips of his ears poking out from underneath his tousled hair. It's all just too sexy, too adorable for Sousuke to handle.   
  
Deliberately, anxiously, Sousuke gathers the courage to reach out for Makoto’s face, and tucks a stray strand of brunet hair behind his ear. His fingers linger close to Makoto’s skin for what seems like an eternity, feeling the heat coming off the green-eyed boy’s skin, wanting more, wanting everything.   
  
As Sousuke’s fighting the urge to taste Makoto’s slightly parted lips in a public place, the train stops with a jolt, and he finds himself pressed up against Makoto’s body. Through a daze, he hears the name of their station sounding out through a speaker, and feels Makoto’s hand grab his and drag him outside, laughing a little.  
  
It’s already nightfall, as they start walking back to Makoto’s house. A light rain falls, and grey clouds hide the full moon, the atmosphere enveloping them both in a dreamlike haze as they walk side by side.   
  
They’re close enough to hold hands, but they don’t. Aching fingers lingering close to each other, but still too fearful to grasp what they desire.   
  
Sousuke looks sideways at Makoto, and finds him smiling sweetly to himself, looking intently at the ground. And his inhibition melts into the air, dissolving into the grown with the summer’s first rain.   
  
He reaches out and takes Makoto’s hand in his, fingers curling together as though made to fit against one another.  
  
Sousuke makes a silent vow to himself to always remember this night, to never let go of the hand in his.   
  
Makoto returns the pressure, sighing audibly next to Sousuke, smiling even more than before, glistening with some angelic inner light shining through his pretty green eyes.   
  
As they walk past a little park, looking gloomy and abandoned in the darkness and the rainfall, Sousuke feels himself being pulled away from the path they’re walking down.  
  
Determined, looking only ahead, Makoto drags him into the park, into the darkness, into the thin veil of vaporous rain, past the swings creaking in the light breeze, past the sandlot with a lonely tonka truck standing all by itself, forgotten by its owner, looking sadly alone.   
  
There is a small wooden bench in the farthest corner of the park, shaded over by tall trees- a perfect hiding place. Sousuke finds himself pushed down on it, and almost dies on the spot with sheer happiness when Makoto awkwardly climbs into his lap, and draws close to him.   
  
Their lips meet bluntly, a little hesitantly, and Sousuke tangles his fingers in Makoto’s hair, places a hand in the small of Makoto’s back, bringing their faces together, breathing hot and ragged into each others' mouths.  
  
Inexpert, hotheaded lust rages through them both, until they forgot which body part belongs to whom.Voices grow heavy with sensuous sighs, and tongues taste with carefully measured motions. And before they know it, Sousuke’s hands are under Makoto’s shirt, hands on hips, pulling the brunet in, closer, closer, closer.   
  
The pulsing rhythm of their bodies caught up in this formless dance leaves them breathless, flushed, burning, wanting more.   
  
The best kind of first kiss.  
  
The kind of kiss that doesn’t really end, leaves burning traces of everlasting longing in its wake, a fire that burns longer and brighter with time.   
  
A kiss that will always begin all over again every time their will lips meet.  
  
Through days and nights and being together and being apart and belonging to each other always, always.   
  
From desire to love to forever. 


	3. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: “Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” - George Bernard Shaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G for general fluffiness (and a teeny bit of angst)

Sousuke was the one who stayed in Iwatobi while the rest of them left. He enrolled at the local college, and grew bitter over his misfortune with each passing day. Every few months, they’d all meet up in Iwatobi, and go drinking at a local pub- catching up, sharing news of exciting things in Australia and Tokyo. And the more stories he heard about Rin and Haru and all the swimming they did toegther, the more depressed Sousuke got, and the more beer he would pour down his throat. 

  
On one such night, Sousuke got sickeningly drunk, and threw up a little on his t-shirt. And Makoto, being the fussy motherhen he always was, offered to help take Sousuke home while the rest of the boys moved on to have drinks by the beach. 

  
When Sousuke regained his senses, he was in his hostel room, tucked underneath the covers. Groaning, he sat up in bed and realized he was shirtless, cleaned up, and put to bed like a small unruly child who’d stayed up way past his bedtime. 

  
And there was Makoto, snoring lightly on the floor, using his folded up jacket for a pillow. 

  
He woke up slowly, smiling at Sousuke. 

  
“Feeling better?”

  
“Yeah… Thanks Makoto. You didn’t have to do any of this…”

  
“Well, I couldn’t just leave you in that state all by yourself.”   
  
They stared silently at each other, a little shy, a little confused about the strange tension in the air between them. 

  
A new feeling, an anxious sort of joy.  
  
Afterwards, they always argued about who kissed whom first, but what Sousuke remembered best were the words Makoto gave him that night.  
  
“I can tell you’re sad, Sousuke. You try to hide your pain, but we can all see through it. Well, at least I can. I hope you realize this isn’t the end. There are other dreams out there in the world for you, other places, other passions. I know you have so much inside you, so much to offer. It hurts me to see you give up like this.”   
  
A month later, Sousuke transferred from the local university to a national one, and learned to experience his future as something abundant and hopeful, with a new world of opportunities opening up before him all over again.

  
The next time they’d met up, it was in Tokyo. Makoto found Sousuke outside his door, sweating nervously, wearing a new shirt (with the tag still on), holding a sweetly tacky bouquet of pink roses, and an invitation to their first date. 

  
That night, they talked endlessly over coffee in Makoto’s apartment, and as he was still waiting for his belongings to be sent from home, Sousuke eagerly accepted Makoto’s offer to sleepover. 

  
Their shy, inexperienced desire grew into the glow of love during their first summer together.

  
With Makoto by his side, Sousuke found himself thinking of his future more and more often, with hope, with courage, and with the will to forge a path for himself, onwards into the unfathomable future, no matter what stood in his way.


	4. Cosplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Makoto puts on some Sailor Jupiter-themed lingerie.
> 
> This was supposed to be a chapter in "Waiting for the Moon to Rise", but it wasn't working for me in the context of that fic.  
> So I'm shoving it here, but I don't want to waste it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E for explicitly ruining your Sailor Jupiter-related childhood innocence.

“There is no way I’m putting that on, Sou. Put it away.” Makoto covers his face in both hands and tries not to blush. Very unsuccessfully. Even his ears are red, giving off so much heat it feels like a fire’s been lit up somewhere inside his chest.

Sousuke closely examines the sailor top, with a green collar and pink bow in front. Well it isn’t exactly a top. It’s more like a bra, in all honesty. He remembers seeing advertisements for a Sailor Moon-themed lingerie line a few years back, and imagining what his Makoto would look like in Sailor Jupiter’s outfit. 

He doesn’t remember mentioning it to Nagisa, but he must have let it slip somehow. Because the Sailor Jupiter lingerie looks like it’s been custom made to fit Makoto perfectly. There are matching green panties, and the little flippy skirt even has a huge pink bow sewn onto the back. The outfit is complete with accessories: Sailor Jupiter’s henshin pen, her green ribbon choker with a metal star fixed at the centre, and her tiara. It really is the perfect anniversary present for them both. 

Sousuke smiles nostalgically as he remembers watching Sailor Moon while babysitting his younger sister, developing a crush on Makoto Kino, thinking it’d be nice to be with someone he wouldn’t have to bend over to kiss.

When he met Makoto for the first time, the similarities between the kind-hearted boy and his favorite sailor senshi didn’t escape him. It was a constant source of unspoken disappointment to him that Makoto was a bad cook, because he’d often dreamt about having tea and cakes baked by his boyfriend especially for him. 

And now this unrealized fantasy is so close, almost within his reach. If he can play it cool, and convince his boyfriend into some cosplaying, Sousuke thinks he will have no regrets when he dies.

“Oh come on Mako-chan. Pretty please?” Sousuke pouts very uncharacteristically at his lover, who goes almost purple in the face with embarrassment at the prospect of cosplaying in silk lingerie.

“S-Sousuke. P-please, I don’t..Nagisa, he…This is his idea of a joke…you can’t possibly expect me to…” Makoto’s protest turns into an astonished yelp as Sousuke slides into place behind him in bed, wrapping his arms around Makoto’s waist, and biting his left earlobe lightly.

“Ngghhh…Sou…Stop it…” Makoto leans back to enjoy the way Sousuke’s hands pull up his shirt, his fingers beginning to trace slow patterns on the ticklish skin of his stomach.

“Do you really want me to stop?” Sousuke whispers into Makoto’s left ear, before giving the lobe another bite. Harder this time. Making Makoto squirm about in his arms, sighing with desire after feeling Sousuke’s hot breath on his skin, the sharpness of teeth digging into flesh.

“Nhhhh…Annhhh…No, I…Sousuke, please…” Makoto’s head falls back on his lover’s shoulder, his lips wet from sucking on Sousuke’s fingers. 

“Pretty please, Makoto?” Sousuke’s voice turns into a bit of a growl as his hands push down Makoto’s sweatpants and start toying with the bulge in his boxers.

“Th-That’s not fair.” Makoto’s body goes limp in Sousuke’s arms as he gives in to the slow trickle of pleasure emanating from the pit of his stomach.

When Sousuke turns his face around to initiate a kiss, Makoto knows he’s done for. He is too embarrassed to admit that he was actually thrilled at the sight of the delicate green, white, and pink fabrics as Sousuke took them out of the gift bag one by one, his smirk turning into a leer as he looked over at Makoto.

No longer a reluctant participant in his boyfriend’s fantasy, Makoto finds himself getting excited at the idea of the things he wants Sousuke to do to him after he puts on the midriff exposing sailor top, the skimpy skirt with a pink bow on its back, and matching green panties.

Breaking free of Sousuke’s embrace, Makoto retreats to the washroom, grabbing the outfit hastily. Sousuke says a quiet little prayer to thank whatever gods led him to be friends with a shameless little pervert like Nagisa.

Putting on the top with hooks at the back is a difficult task. Makoto is about to give up when the door opens and Sousuke slithers in, grinning from ear to ear.

“Need help, Mako-chan?” Sousuke takes charge, helping Makoto put on the top and the choker. The panties are already in place, too tight for Makoto’s slightly plump bottom, not really covering all of it up. Sousuke teasingly strokes the exposed skin before helping Makoto with the skirt.

The pen and the tiara are forgotten by the sink as Makoto is dragged back into the bedroom and thrown onto the bed.

Sousuke climbs on top of him, straddling his hips, taking off his t-shirt, a hungry look in his eyes that is slightly frightening.

Makoto cowers a little under the glare and puts his arms across his chest- an old habit.

“Are you alright, Mako?” Sousuke’s lust is replaced with concern as he watches Makoto trying to hide himself.

“Ahh…I’m fine. It’s fine. Go on, S-Sousuke.” Though he smiles, Makoto’s voice falters with uncertainty.

“No it isn’t fine. So tell me what’s bothering you. Am I hurting you?” Sousuke carefully rolls to the side, sits up on the bed and pulls Makoto into his arms, cradling him close.

“N-No. It’s just…It’s embarrassing like this, for me. I mean…” Makoto looks visibly relieved as Sousuke strokes his hair with gentle, reassuring caresses.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way. That was not…If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. I’m sorry I pushed you, Mako.”

“That’s not it. I do…I want to make you happy…It’s just…”

“Then tell me what _you_ want to do.”

“I…Just want…Just hold me like this for a while. Please…”

The evening passes by with Sousuke’s arms loosely wrapped around Makoto’s exposed waist, both of them breathing softly into the comforting silence that surrounds them. The night sees them lying in bed, kissing as though their lives depend on each other’s breath mingling through their mouths.

Sousuke ends up on top, his pants long gone, his boxers pushed down across his thighs, rubbing his hardness against Makoto’s.

“Mmmpphhh…Sou…If you keep doing that…” Makoto breaks the kiss for a breath and some words.

“What do you want me to do Makoto? Tell me. I feel like we’re always doing what I want to do. So tonight, let’s have sex the way you want.” Sousuke sits up, gazing down at the mess he’s already made of his fantasy.

Makoto’s breathing is slightly ragged from the kissing, the pristine silk of his outfit crumpled up from rolling around in bed. Through the sweat-dampened white fabric of the top, Sousuke can see Makoto’s nipples poking out, stiff as two pieces of hard candy.

Makoto’s panties are already on the floor, having come off around 5 minutes after the kissing started. His erect cock has pushed up the green silk skirt, obscenely dripping precum all over the delicate garment.

Long eyelashes lower over bright green eyes, as Makoto mumbles a request in barely audible words.

“You’ll have to be louder than that, my love. Go on, command me. I’m at your service tonight. What will you have me do, Mako-chan?”

“I…I want…”

“Come on. Tell me what you want or I’ll go back to bullying you until you cum.”

“S-Suck my…I want you to suck me off, Sousuke.”

Sousuke chuckles appreciatively before smacking his lips loudly and bending over Makoto’s hardness.

He sticks his tongue out, flicking the tip of Makoto’s cock in rapid motions, enjoying the sound of his lover’s moans, which he considers more profoundly moving than any music he’s ever heard.

“D-don’t tease, Sou. Please…Annnhhh…” Makoto’s back arches instinctively as Sousuke takes him fully into his mouth, sucking sloppily.

Though Makoto would like to believe he’s won this round, he knows he is wrong. Sousuke is still very much in control of the situation, taking his time with giving head. He frequently pauses, letting Makoto’s cock pop out of his mouth, to place kisses along the side of his slick length, to lick his balls a little at a time, before taking Makoto back in.

Makoto writhes on the bed, begging for release in a voice that echoes against the ceiling, desperately coarse. 

“Do you want me to swallow it or do you want to cum on my face?” Sousuke asks in a low, grating voice as he covers Makoto’s cock with the green silk skirt and pumps erratically.

“Nnnggghh…Ahhhnnhhhh…Not fair…Unnhhh…Your mouth…I want your mouth, Sou…” Makoto tries to reach for Sousuke’s hair, but falls onto his back again as Sousuke deep-throats him, making him cum in an instant, swallowing up every last drop, sucking him dry.

“How was that? Too good for words? And what should we do next, Makoto.” Sousuke slides up next to Makoto, and kisses him deeply, sharing the taste of him between them both.

“Inside me…I want your cock. T-Turn me around and…” Makoto gets embarrassed halfway through the sentence, and covers his face with both hands, his ears burning up again.

“Say it properly, Makoto. I won’t know what to do unless you tell me.” Sousuke’s grin widens as he pushes Makoto’s hands away from his face, tilting his chin up so their eyes can meet.

“Fuck me in the ass, Sou. I want your cock. I want you to cum inside me.” Makoto’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, but each word rings clear as a bell.

Sousuke feels himself getting hard again, his cock digging into the soft flesh on the inside of Makoto’s right thigh.

“Anything else?”

“Yes. You haven’t…I want you to…to suck my…my nip…uh…nipples. Without taking my top off. I want you to shove my face into the pillow and thrust into me until I’m seeing stars and can’t think of anything else but the feeling of your cock inside me.” As Makoto goes on, his voice becomes steadier, his gaze more demanding.

Sousuke just stares, mesmerized by the low, almost purring voice in which Makoto is commanding im.

His lips part slowly, and he moves between Makoto’s legs, pushing them apart, reaching for his hands, restraining them to the sides, and does what he’s been told.

Sousuke thrusts into Makoto- slowly, deliberately- grunting above the brunet's body, their fingers laced up together, their eyes locked in hypnotic desire. 

His mouth leaves wet patches on the white silk covering Makoto's chest, and his teeth bite through the cloth, leaving red marks on Makoto's pale skin. 

As he feels his climax approaching, Sousuke pulls out of Makoto completely without any warning, grabs him by the hips and turns him around.

Makoto raises himself up on his knees, his face pressed into the pillow, offering his ass up to Sousuke again.

Sousuke's fingers tangle themselves up in Makoto's hair, pushing him down, and he enter his lover again. 

The pacing is frantic this time, aggressive and heedless. 

Letting go of restraint, Sousuke loses himself to the warmth and wetness inside Makoto, cumming without pulling out, collapsing on top of his breathless lover, slowly calling out his name.

"Mmmmm...That was perfect, Sou." Makoto hot, sweaty back ripples underneath him like the waves coming in at sunset.

They stay in place,  bodies indistinguishable from each other's, for half the night. 

Makoto dreams of cherry blossoms in spring, and Sousuke dreams of the sea under a full moon- all lit up. 

Love isn't always perfect, but sometimes it unfolds in patterns which come as close to happiness as any mortal can ever hope for. 

 


	5. The Story of Makoto and his Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "found a kitten last night and I already have five cats, please take this little guy off my hands neighbor I’ve only met once au"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble contains slightly suggestive themes, but nothing too explicit (unfortunately).

Makoto really has a problem with this whole cat thing.

What with having a cramped little city apartment already inhabited by 3 cats, it is not the best idea to pick up another one.

But how could he leave the poor little thing, shivering all by itself in a cardboard box by the side of the busy Tokyo street, as it rained heavily?

It was something right out of a shoujo manga, which also appealed to Makoto’s romantic spirit, along with his endless love for all things feline.

So Makoto picked up little Kuro (of course he named it the second he saw it), petting his bedraggled back fur, and marveling at his amber eyes, and brought him home.

Introducing Kuro to Natsume, Sakura, and Mei does not end up going very well. The older cats have already established their territories, and are not willing to relinquish their domain to a scrawny little kitten.

Natsume fluffs up his grey fur huffily, and gives Makoto a sneering look with his blue eyes, as if asking how Makoto dare bring a new subject into Natsume’s kingdom without obtaining permission first.

Sakura and Mei huddle up together on a big fluffy cushion on the floor, ginger fur against white, turning up their noses at the newcomer, demanding Makoto’s undivided attention.

Makoto sighs as he takes Kuro out of the cramped cardboard box, and wipes the little thing down with a towel. After feeding his cats, Makoto tries giving Kuro some warm milk from a dropper, and smiles happily when the kitten drinks it all down hungrily.

He wraps Kuro up in a small blue blanket and puts him to bed in a small shoebox lined with a cotton towel.

And then he goes to sleep, wondering if he can support another child, wait no he means cat, on the limited funds he earns working at the café down the street from his shabby apartment building. Along with paying rent and tuition.

He wonders if Haru would be willing to adopt this particular ball of fluff, but remembers how his best friend has to travel a lot, competing and training all the time, and how unfair it would be to try and guilt him into taking in a pet.

The best thing would be to head back to Iwatobi in a couple of weeks, and hand Kuro over to his sister, who shares his love for small animals.

A little sad about this decision, Makoto goes to sleep.

 

What wakes him up in the middle of the night is something that sounds a lot like demonic screeching emanating from his living room, and loud banging on his door.

Wearing nothing but the pair of dark green boxers he slept in after showering, Makoto stumbles out of bed, and almost trips over Natsume as he struggles to turn on the living room light, and figure out what this chaos is about.

What he sees is probably something out of a weirdly hilarious nightmare.

Kuro has left the shoebox and is sitting on the kotatsu in the middle of the living room, licking his paws, and screeching every few seconds.

Natsume, who is clearly trying to hide the shame of just having been defeated by a pint-sized kitty, has knocked over Makoto’s lamp to vent his frustration and is hiding behind a flowerpot.

Mei and Sakura, still cuddling together on their cushion, are mewing their annoyance at the disruption.

And of course, there is still the loud and rather angry banging on the door.

 

Frantically, Makoto opens the door, and lets out a little yelp at the sight of his neighbour.

His neighbour- a tall, dark and handsome man, with piercing teal eyes, and haphazard raven hair- who goes by the name of Sousuke Yamazaki.

Sousuke Yamazaki, wearing checked pajamas and a glowering expression (and nothing else) is standing outside, arms crossed, seething with rage.

The same Sousuke Yamazaki who asked Makoto out on a date a week after he first moved in. And took Makoto out to some weird underground bar, and smoked a shit ton of cigarettes, and then tried to kiss Makoto when they came back, and left cursing under his breath when Makoto refused his lips.

The same Sousuke Yamazaki who now avoids running into Makoto, and pretends that they don’t know each other, even though their apartments are right next to each other’s, and the walls thin as paper.

The same Sousuke Yamazaki who hasn’t brought anyone back home with him since Makoto turned him down around 2 months ago.

The same Sousuke Yamazaki who Makoto has had certain dreams about recently, which leave his underwear messed up, and fill him with remorse and a hopeful wish that maybe, just maybe, the teal-eyed man will ask him out again.

 

At the sight of Makoto wearing nothing but his underwear, his ears going red at the sight of his neighbour, Sousuke forgets whatever choice words he had thought up for Makoto’s den of cat-related depravity.

Sousuke feels his skin burning up, and stands there motionlessly, trying not to gape at Makoto’s, well, everything.

He regrets trying to rush things on their first date. He regrets not trying to ask Makoto to give him a second chance.

Because he still thinks about this beautiful, green-eyed man all the time.

Even if Makoto’s as shy as a middle-schooler, and likes to adopt every single cat he comes across, Sousuke thinks of him as the very definition of perfection.

 

“Errrr. Sorry, about the noise, Yamazaki-san. I…Well, I brought this new kitten home with me tonight. I mean it was raining and he was lonely and cold and I couldn’t really leave him there, could I? But Natsume picked a fight with him but I think Kuro’s really tough and he defended himself pretty well? But now my lamp’s broken and they’re all having some sort of exchange and I ‘m sorry. I’m really sorry you woke up.” Makoto rushes on and on without catching his breath, looking awkwardly at Sousuke, hoping that this can all be over soon and he can maybe put on a t-shirt or something to escape the way those teal eyes are looking him up and down.

“Ahhhh. Well, it’s okay, I guess.  But I’m up now, so how about offering me tea or something to make up for your misbehaving children?” Sousuke knows this is an opportunity he will not get again, and he grabs it quite shamelessly.

“Oh…Umm…Yes, of course. I’ll…Come on in.” Makoto stumbles over his words, going red in the face. A very attractive look for him, in Sousuke’s opinion.

Still in his underwear, very frazzled and nervous and a tiny bit excited, Makoto boils some water, and prepares two cups of cherry blossom tea he’s been saving for a rainy day.

Hands slightly shivering, he almost drops the sugar bowl when he feels Sousuke’s hands on his bare shoulders, and his sleepily husky voice asking Makoto if he needs any help.

Sousuke is close. Too close. Makoto’s breath catches in his lungs, and he cannot even get himself to say, “No, thank you. I can handle this by myself.”

Instead, he puts down the sugar bowl, and lets himself feel the sinking pleasure of Sousuke’s hands against his skin, which have now slid down from his shoulders to his waist, to his hips.

Makoto has already surrendered himself to whatever Sousuke wants.

 

But then Makoto hears the sound of breaking glass, and Sousuke takes his hands away.

Kuro has gone ahead and broken a bowl Makoto left out on the kotatsu.

Laughingly, Sousuke helps him clean up the mess, and makes Makoto sit down with his rebellious kitten while he brings them both some tea.

He should probably suggest that Makoto put on a t-shirt, but he doesn’t want to deprive himself of the view.

 

Sipping the tea, still feeling heat burn the places on his body that Sousuke has touched, Makoto finds himself talking endlessly to the teal-eyed man, about nothing in particular.

Somewhere during their pleasantly ambling conversation, Kuro leaves Makoto’s lap and settles down in Sousuke’s instead.

“Kuro likes you.” Makoto smiles a little wistfully at the picture before him.

A gorgeous, topless man with a cute little kitten.

Makoto’s ideal boyfriend.

And he’s already messed up the chance they had to be together.

 

Sousuke pets the kitten, looking over at Makoto, wondering if he can touch the brunet again, if he’ll be allowed to steal a kiss from those plump, sweet lips this time.

“Have you decided what to do with your little rebel then?” Sousuke tries to distract himself from the tension building up between them now that the tea is finished, and the cats have calmed down.

“Ah. I can’t really keep him here, so I think I’ll bring him back to Iwatobi when I go for a visit.”

“Oh. Right. Ummm, I have another suggestion, if you don’t mind?”

“What suggestion?”

“Well, I could keep Kuro at my apartment. That way, you can see him whenever you want, and old Natsume wouldn’t feel like his position is being usurped.”

 

It’s the perfect thing.

The perfect excuse for the two of them to spend time together, using Kuro as their scapegoat.

“That sounds good, Yamazaki-san.” Makoto lowers his long eyelashes as he smiles.

“Ahhh,  how about just calling me Sousuke? I mean, we’ve already kind of gone out. And umm, I’ve been rejected once already, so…. “ Sousuke tries not to look too hopeful as he catches Makoto’s eyes, smirking a bit.

“Is this your way of asking for another chance then, Sousuke-kun?” Makoto’s green eyes glint as he holds Sousuke’s gaze, edging a little closer.

Then he’s on all fours, his face so close to Sousuke’s.

And Sousuke’s hands are around his waist again, and his breath so warm in Makoto’s face.

Neither of them notices Kuro as he slips away, and takes a comfortable seat next to Natsume, who has resumed his reign over the kotatsu.

Makoto ends up in Sousuke’s lap somehow, their lips locked, tongues tasting each other’s mouths, the heat from their bodies making them both light-headed.

By the time Makoto’s boxers come off, the cats have dozed off to sleep.

 

Sousuke spends that night in Makoto’s bed, and pretty much every night after that as well.

Kuro stays in Makoto’s apartment, agreeing to share the kotatsu with Natsume.

Sakura and Mei keep dreaming of spring and cherry blossoms, content with their cushion.

 

 

 

 


	6. The One-Night Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: AU with Sousuke and Makoto being the last two people on a train in their commute back to their homes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is definitely explicit.

Sousuke Yamazaki feels like he’s lived through the longest Friday of his life.   
  
Everything that could possibly go wrong at work, went wrong.  
  
He had to retype 3 reports, call a dozen clients to apologize about products that were never delivered, and ended the whole fiasco of a day by spilling coffee all over his new suit.  
  
And now he’s collapsed on an empty seat on the last train home, having stayed late to finish up revising the orders for Monday, making sure nothing is amiss.  
  
His suit jacket is crumpled up on top of his briefcase, on the seat next to his.   
  
He slumps back, sighing heavily, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. Even though he usually spends half an hour every morning slicking it back, getting it just right. It’s his only vanity really.  
  
That and his impeccable taste in suits.  
  
The newest of which is now completely destroyed.  
  
He’s more upset about his suit than the shit he had to fix at work, in all honesty.  
  
  
The train stops, and a young couple leaves, giggling at each other, holding hands.  
  
Sousuke scoffs loudly at their retreating backs.  
  
He has no time to spare for this romance bullshit. Not after the way his last relationship ended.  
  
_You spend more hours at your office than you do with me._  
  
What’s more important to you? That freaking suit or my feelings?   
  
Etc. etc.  
  
  
It had ended badly, and Sousuke was still not quite over the way he’d left things with his ex-boyfriend.  
  
But he didn’t entirely regret it either.  
  
The two of them weren’t meant to be.  
  
In fact, Sousuke thinks it’s better to be single, and indulge himself whenever possible.  
  
Commitment is not for him.  
  
But so far, every time he thinks of going to a bar and picking up some cute boy for a one-night stand, he ends up feeling a little nauseous at the sudden rush of anxiety, and ends up staying home, reading late into the night.  
  
  
He is too busy feeling sorry for himself to notice that there is someone sitting opposite him, looking at him rather intently.  
  
The only other someone in the empty train, besides himself.  
  
When their eyes finally meet, Sousuke feels a sudden molten heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
The boy looks a few years younger than him, in his early 20's probably, but maybe that’s just because of the way he’s dressed.  
  
Slightly ripped skinny jeans, a light green tank top which Sousuke thinks is a little too tight, a black beanie pulled over his mess of brown hair, and the prettiest face Sousuke has ever seen.  
  
A pair of sparkling green eyes catches his gaze, and the slick tip of a cherry-red tongue flicks out to lick curving pink lips, the bottom one embellished with a plain black lip-ring.   
  
It’s an invitation if there ever was any.  
  
Sousuke swallows thickly, holding the brunet’s gaze.  
  
His stop is next, but it’s still a good 15 minutes away.  
  
It’s now or never.  
  
This is the perfect opportunity for his one-night stand with a pretty boy.  
  
_The prettiest of boys._  
  
Who seems very eager to jump him.

  
  
Sousuke responds by mimicking the boy, licking his lips, and opening his legs a little wider, patting his left thigh as an invitation.  
  
Smiling a twisted smile, the green-eyed boy makes his way towards Sousuke, as though they’re in a hotel room instead of a rattling train.  
  
He straddles Sousuke’s thigh, and leans in for a kiss.  
  
Sousuke’s tongue traces the outline of his lips, feeling the cold metal of the lip ring, pulling it a bit with his teeth, making the boy squirm in his arms.  
  
His hands push up the flimsy fabric of the tank top, tracing the boy’s abs, toying with his pink nipples, feeling them go hard against the touch of his fingertips.   
  
They stay that way for what seems like an eternity, and Sousuke forgets all about his shitty day and his ruined suit, losing himself in the taste of the pretty green-eyed boy as though it’s a well-aged, rather expensive whiskey.  
  
  
His stop comes too soon.  
  
The bulge in his pants is begging for release.  
  
Following his instincts, Sousuke takes the boy’s hand and leads him out of the train, into a cab, all the way to his apartment in a posh high rise, where he lives in relative luxury.  
  
They collapse on Sousuke’s spotless white bedsheets, frantically ripping off each other’s clothes.  
  
Once they’re undressed, the green-eyed boy slides off the bed, and kneels down on the floor in front of Sousuke, completely naked, exposing a tattoo on his hip. A skull surrounded by black roses. So clichéd that it makes Sousuke smile indulgently.  
  
He has never felt so full of lust before in his life.  
  
When the brunet’s warm lips close over the tip of Sousuke’s cock, wet with precume, he feels utter bliss.   
  
Grabbing at the dishevelled brown hair, Sousuke fucks the boy’s mouth, letting go a moment before he cums, releasing all over the boy’s pretty face.   
  
Laughing, the boy grabs a tissue from the box Sousuke offers him, and wipes his face clean.   
  
And then they’re kissing again, in bed, and Sousuke’s fingers, slick with lube, are inside the brunet’s tight entrance, his long, toned legs lifted up across Sousuke’s shoulders, his moans coming low and turning Sousuke on all over again.  
  
When Sousuke enters him, the green-eyed boy bites his lip so hard it starts bleeding.  
  
Sousuke thrusts inside him, leaning over to lick the blood before it trickles down the boy’s chin, tugging at the lip ring, watching the beautiful green eyes tear up in ecstatic pain.  
  
“Unnhhh. My name, say my name. Please. Call me Makoto. Say my name.”  
  
Sousuke grunts as he buries his cock deep inside Makoto, and says the lovely syllables of his name over and over until he cums inside the warmth of Makoto’s body, collapsing on top of him.  
  
Makoto lays motionless underneath him, catching his breath, but Sousuke’s isn’t done yet.  
  
He starts playing with Makoto’s nipples, making them painfully hard again.  
Makoto tries to push him away playfully, but Sousuke carries on.  
  
The brunet gives up trying to resist as Sousuke’s tongue travels down his chest, into his navel, before finding the tattoo on his right hip.  
  
Makoto’s back arches uncontrollably as Sousuke traces the outline of his tattoo, biting the skull’s mouth. Makoto’s cock stiffens as Sousuke continues playing with his tattoo, and he thrashes around in bed, almost crying with pleasure.  
  
  
“When you cum this time, I want you to say my name, Makoto.”  
  
“Unnhhhh. Whatever you want...I’ll do whatever you want….Ahhhnnnhhh…”  
  
“Then tell me what you want me to do next. Call me Sousuke, and beg me to fuck you.”  
  
“Haaa! Annh….Sousuke….Please, fuck me. I want your cock in me. I want your cock to fuck me so hard, it makes me pass out. Unnnhhhhh, please fill me up with your cum….Please, Sousuke…”  
  
  
Makoto reaches his arms for Sousuke, grasping at his shoulders.  
  
Sousuke pulls him up, and they kiss each other again, deep and long. When their lips come apart, Makoto’s chin is dripping with both their saliva.   
  
This time, Sousuke leans against the bedframe while Makoto climbs on top of his cock, and lowers himself on it.   
  
They kiss sloppily again, and breathlessly, until they’re both spent.  
  
Makoto leans against Sousuke’s chest, and Sousuke’s fingers trace his tattoo once more, wanting to ask him why he got it, what it means to him, who he is, what he does, what he likes, what he hates…  
  
Makoto’s weight against his body is comforting, and he wants the brunet to stay with him, just like this, all night long.  
  
And then again, and again, and again.  
  
He wonders how nice it would be to come home to this every night.  
  
  
So when he feels Makoto’s body begin to stiffen, his breath evening out, as if he’s getting ready to leave, Sousuke slips his arms around the boy’s waist.  
  
“Hey Makoto, you wanna stay? I’ll make breakfast for you. My scrambled eggs are really something.”  
  
Makoto laughs a little, his body relaxing again, letting Sousuke hold him.  
  
“That sounds like a good deal, Sousuke.”  
  
  
And Makoto stays, even though he hates eggs. 


	7. And Kisumi Makes Three (SouMakoKisu)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: Cop/Firefighter/bartender au. could be kisumi the bartender setting up two really hot regulars, could be kisumi insinuating that an ot3 is the best way to go, could be kisumi trying to set up his two childhood friends etc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E for the especially furnished room in hell reserved for my perverted ass by Satan himself.

“What’s the gloomy face for, Sou-chan?” Kisumi places a tall glass of beer in front of his old friend, leaning forward over the bar, a little too close to Sousuke’s face.  
  
“None of your business, Kisumi.” Sousuke grips the glass, the feeling of cool glass in his hand a familiar comfort.   
  
“Tsk. Have it your way, Mr. Grumpy Cop. Just wanted to know if I could be of use to you.” Kisumi teasingly pokes Sousuke’s nose, running off to serve another customer before Sousuke can get him back.  
  
  
  
Sousuke has a tendency to come to Kisumi’s bar whenever he’s feeling low after work.  
  
Or when he wants to pick someone up for the night.   
  
A few times, unable to find any willing and suitable volunteers, Sousuke’s ended up in the small apartment above the bar, where Kisumi lives. In Kisumi’s bed, doing filthy things to Kisumi. Neither of them has fixed partners, so it’s a suitable arrangement to get rid of their urges without any added emotional stress.  
  
But lately Sousuke has been increasingly despondent about his single status.  
  
Especially since Rin declared his love for Haru and his confession was miraculously accepted.  
  
It was easier to pick up cute boys with Rin as his wingman.   
  
But now Rin rushes home right after work to get cozy with his new boyfriend, and has no time to hang out with Sousuke.   
  
Gone are the days where Sousuke and Rin lived out their buddy cop fantasy together, drinking and sharing stories about their most memorable fucks.   
  
  
  
Tonight, Sousuke hasn’t even bothered to change his uniform before seeking the comfort of alcohol.   
  
Through experience he knows that he’ll have better luck attracting strays if he’s dressed like a cop, slightly sweating from the long summer day’s labour.   
  
And by labour he means lounging around in a patrol car with Rin, having to listen to him go on and on about Haru’s cuteness.   
  
And Sousuke would literally pour lava in his ear canals than listen to any more of that drivel.   
  
  
  
Sousuke’s on his second beer when the door to the bar opens up, and a cheerful voice calls out to Kisumi in familiar words.  
  
Sousuke turns around out of curiosity and finds his eyes land on Makoto Tachibana- volunteer fireman and savior of local cats- wearing a fitted dark blue t-shirt with black skinny jeans.   
  
He looks good enough to eat.   
  
And Sousuke’s suddenly feels like he’s getting real hungry.  
  
  
  
Sousuke hasn’t really talked to Tachibana much in the past, thinking him to be a bit of a prude, but he’s always admired the gorgeous man from afar.   
  
He even thought of asking Rin once to set them up on a date or something, but then remembered how protective Tachibana’s friends are of him. Suppose the date didn’t go so well? Nanase would probably rip Sousuke’s heart right out of his chest and eat it in front of him.  
  
But maybe that risk would be worth taking for a shot at watching those green eyes tear up with pleasure, those pink lips twitch and tremble as they called out for Sousuke.   
  
  
  
Pulling out his most charming smirk, Sousuke makes eye contact with Makoto, and waves at him.  
  
Perhaps too relieved to find a familiar face, or perhaps because he’s too polite to decline this invitation, Makoto waves back with a small smile and makes his way towards the bar.  
  
He takes a seat next to Sousuke, a little pink in the face, and avoids any further eye contact.  
  
  
“Hey Makoto. What brings you here? I don’t usually see you around.” Sousuke turns a little towards Makoto, so that their elbows are grazing together.   
  
“Oh. Umm…Nothing really. Wanted to see Kisumi, say hi. You know.” Makoto keeps staring at the bar’s counter, but he doesn’t move away from Sousuke.   
  
In fact, Sousuke’s sure he edges a little closer, allowing their forearms to touch together.  
  
  
So Tachibana is here for the same thing as Sousuke.   
  
This’ll make things much easier.   
  
  
“Oi Kisumi! A drink for our friend Makoto here!” Sousuke calls out to the pink-haired bartender, getting his attention immediately.   
  
He brings over a gin and tonic, smiling a very pointed smile at them both.  
  
“Ah, so you’ve already been caught, Mako-chan!” He ruffles Makoto’s hair, winking at Sousuke.  
  
“Eh?? Caught? What do you….Oh…” Makoto suddenly realizes what Kisumi is talking about, and blushes profusely.   
  
Sousuke is ready to punch the bartender in his stupid pretty face when he realizes that Makoto is still very close to him, maintaining the tenuous physical contact between them.  
  
“You know, I keep telling Makoto to let loose a little, play around, have some fun. Aren’t you glad he finally took my advice, Sou-chan?” Kisumi smirks at them both, and leaves them to chat each other up while looking after the rest of his customers.  
  
  
  
He’s surprised to see both his friends still lingering at the counter, sharing a beer, after waving off the last of his clientele.   
  
“You two still here, then?” He raises his eyebrows at Sousuke, who is clearly rubbing Makoto’s left thigh, leaning a little too close, whispering something in the brunet’s ear which makes Makoto go red all over.   
  
“Oh, yeah. Ummm. We were wondering if…Could we use your apartment? Just while you clean up? We’ll be real quick, right Makoto?” Sousuke turns to face Kisumi with an expression that’s more of an invitation than a shameless request for using Kisumi’s bed to fuck Makoto in.   
  
“Ahhh. I see. And you’re okay with this, Mako-chan?” Kisumi locks the bar’s door, and walks up to Makoto, taking his blushing face in both hands.  
  
“Oh…Ummm…Yeah…I mean, you and I, we’ve already…A few times, you know…” Makoto mumbles at Kisumi, while Sousuke’s hands lift his shirt up to expose his taut stomach and abs.   
  
“So you’ve already been fucked by our mutual friend here, eh Makoto? Can’t help but feel a little jealous about that. But you’ll make it up to me tonight, yeah?” Sousuke rips off Makoto’s shirt, and faces him.  
  
As Sousuke’s tongue forces its way into Makoto’s willing mouth, Kisumi’s teeth start teasing Makoto’s exposed nipples.  
  
Soon, Makoto is slumped back against Sousuke, his chin and chest covered with the saliva of both his friends.   
  
  
“Let’s take you to bed, shall we? Before you cum all over Kisumi’s nice and clean floor.” Sousuke presses a palm against Makoto’s denim-covered hardness, making the green-eyed man moan out loud.  
  
Sousuke props Makoto up against him, and leads him upstairs, leaving Kisumi to pick up the discarded t-shirt.   
  
By the time Kisumi joins them upstairs, Makoto is buck naked on his bed, with Sousuke on top, still dressed in his police uniform, rubbing his bulge against Makoto’s stiff cock.  
  
“Started without me then, eh?” Kisumi takes off his own clothes, and steps out of his underwear which is starting to feel painful against his growing hardness.  
  
He takes his place at the head of the bed, his cock extended right above Makoto’s face.  
  
“Mmmmm, sorry Kisumi, he’s too delicious to resist.” Sousuke flops on top of Makoto, pushing their cocks together, and moves forward to kiss Kisumi.  
Kisumi helps Sousuke undress, and they kiss again until they’re both out of breath.   
  
When they part, strands of saliva drip down their lips into Makoto’s eager mouth. The brunet smacks his lips, and tries to sit up between them, to share in the kissing.  
  
Kisumi pulls Makoto up by the shoulders, and Sousuke wraps his arms around the brunet’s waist.  
  
Makoto sticks out his tongue, and the other two men lick it tentatively, tasting Makoto’s sweetness mixed with gin and beer. Soon, all three of them are feeling as if they’re melting into one another’s mouths, having lost all sense of distinction.   
  
Makoto’s cock starts twitching with anticipation, and his mind starts going blank with the overwhelming pleasure invading his mouth.   
  
He lets Sousuke turn him around, so that the brunet’s back is facing the teal-eyed man, and moans into Kisumi’s mouth as Sousuke’s lube-covered fingers enter his asshole, getting him ready for the big throbbing cock that’s currently poking his left butt cheek.   
  
Makoto doesn’t resist at all when Kisumi grabs him by the hair and pushes the brunet’s mouth onto his cock.  
  
Makoto’s already familiar with the taste and shape of it, having sucked Kisumi off a few times before. But he doesn’t want Sousuke to know that, really. Though he can’t explain the reason to himself.   
  
He takes Kisumi’s cock deep into his throat, almost choking on it, and then lets it out with a gasp seconds later, as Sousuke enters him from behind.  
It’s all Makoto can do to cling on to Kisumi as Sousuke thrusts inside him, slapping his ass every few second.  
  
“Don’t ignore Kisumi’s cock Makoto, or you’ll get punished even more.” Sousuke slaps both his butt cheeks one after the other, and Makoto takes Kisumi back into his mouth.  
  
  
  
Trapped between two very attractive men, both of whom Makoto happens to be rather fond of, is a dream come true for him.  
  
In fact Makoto was the one who suggested they use Kisumi’s room in response to Sousuke’s subtle proposal for a one-night stand.   
  
  
Makoto is so turned on that doesn’t really need anyone to touch his cock to cum. Sousuke’s cocks is exploring his insides, until it finds the right spot, and thrusts right at it. He pulls out of Makoto just in time, gushing his seed all over Makoto’s perfect back.   
  
Kisumi grabs him by the hair again, and pulls him off before cumming all over Makoto’s face.  
  
Makoto falls onto bed, completely spent, and feels Sousuke and Kisumi collapse on either side of him.  
  
Sousuke is still hungry for more kissing, only this time he ignores Kisumi and pulls Makoto towards him, making the brunet face his way.  
  
Makoto feels himself getting hot and bothered again as Kisumi gently licks Sousuke’s cum off his back.   
  
After the second round, with Sousuke still topping Makoto, and Kisumi sucking him off, Makoto’s head goes completely blank, filled with a white haze.  
  
  
As he falls asleep sandwiched between Sousuke and Kisumi’s sweating bodies, all three men smelling strongly of sex, Makoto thinks he wouldn’t mind repeating this once in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appear to have a little too much free time on my hands today, and drabbles are easier to write than chapter updates.


	8. Dinner with Tachibana Sensei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: Single Dad AU! ^^ Sousuke's raising a kid on his own (for whatever reason), and Makoto's his kid's elementary/primary school teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for vague mentions of homophobia, some kissing, and a bit of angst

Makoto Tachibana fixes his collar for the tenth time and runs a hand through his already unkempt hair, standing nervously before the door to the small house, building up courage to ring the doorbell.

He’s brought a small box of pastries with him, and has no clue if coming here was a good idea or not.

But he cannot say no to any of his students, and he has a soft spot for 8 year old Takashi Yamazaki. The sweet little boy with dark hair, always combed carefully to the side, and a quietly polite demeanour.

So when Takashi tearfully gave Makoto a handwritten note with drawings of cats all over it last week, inviting him to dinner at his house, Makoto didn’t have the heart to refuse him.

It was the end of the school year anyway, and Takashi would no longer be his student in the fall. Somehow, Makoto has gotten a little too attached to the boy. Maybe it’s because Takashi usually walks home alone, and always eats store-bought lunches, and brings in a note from his father every month, excusing himself from parent-teacher meetings.

Makoto knows from the parents of Takashi’s classmates that Yamazaki-san is a single father, with a fulltime job as the manager of a big printing firm in the city, and doesn’t really have a choice in the matter.

So far Makoto’s only talked to Sousuke Yamazaki on the phone to discuss his son’s academic progress. Though he always sounds tired and curt on the phone, Makoto has noticed that Yamazaki-san’s voice fills with a happy kind of pride whenever Takashi is praised.

But Makoto wants to meet the man face to face, just to make sure Takashi is properly loved and looked after.

Thinking he should have called Takashi’s father to confirm the dinner invitation, Makoto finally rings the doorbell.

A very disgruntled-looking man, still wearing a white button-down shirt with its sleeves rolled up, underneath what is very obviously a Rilakkuma apron, opens the door.

“Ahhh, you must be Tachibana-sensei. I…Errr…Welcome to our home.” The dark-haired man blushes with embarrassment at Makoto’s look of amusement at his getup.

Before Makoto can thank him for the invitation, Takashi pushes his father out of the way and jumps on him. Makoto hugs the boy back, and hands him the box of pastries, ruffling his hair affectionately.

Takashi’s cheeks turn as pink as his father’s, and Makoto cannot help but think it’s the cutest sight he’s ever laid eyes on.

Sitting Makoto down at a neat little kotatsu in the small living room, Sousuke hurriedly apologizes for the delay in dinner, and runs off to the kitchen.

Takashi brings two cups of matcha and some dumplings for Makoto and himself, and settles down at the table next to his teacher, looking like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Makoto and Takashi soon lose themselves in a pleasant conversation, reminiscing about the school year, discussing favorite kinds of dogs, and the best cat cafes in the neighborhood.

It turns out Takashi has never been to one, and Makoto finds himself promising to go with him on the weekend. He knows it’s very unwise to get involved in a student’s personal life, but he can’t help himself where Takashi is concerned.

Half an hour later, immaculately dressed in a clean blue shirt and dress pants, with no apron in sight, Sousuke Yamazaki brings out a simple but delicious meal of miso soup, fried rice, curry and baked mackerel.

Makoto happily notes the air of geniality between father and son, while also realizing that the two look nothing alike.

Sousuke catches Makoto’s eye, and smiles a little reluctantly before urging him to eat more.

After dinner is finished, Makoto helps Takashi and Sousuke with the dishes, and insists on making coffee to go with the pastries he’s brought over for dessert.

He cannot help noticing Sousuke’s sigh of relief as he collapses on a cushion next to the kotatsu, and lets Takashi curl up in his lap, both father and son too tired from the day’s work to realize their guest is serving them.

 

Takashi falls asleep in Sousuke’s lap, his pastry half-finished, and has to be hauled off to bed and tucked in.

Makoto knows he should leave, but his curiosity will not let him.

He patiently waits for Sousuke to come back, sipping gingerly at his lukewarm coffee.

 

“I’m sorry about this. Takashi only told me he’d invited you this afternoon, and I couldn’t really prepare anything special for his favorite teacher. He won’t let me hear the end of it, you know.” Sousuke sighs again, as he sits down next to Makoto.

Pushing away the coffee cups, he pulls out a bottle of sake and a couple of small glasses.

“Grownup time.” He smiles and pours it out for them both, and makes Makoto take a glass.

“It was a delicious meal Yamazaki-san, so please don’t feel troubled on my account. I probably should have called you before accepting the invitation.” Makoto suddenly feels conscious of himself as a pair of rather severe teal eyes examines him closely.

“That would have upset Takashi, so I’m glad you just said yes. He’s very fond of you, Tachibana-sensei.” Sousuke smiles a little tersely, his eyes still sharply taking Makoto in.

“I’m very fond of him too, Yamazaki-san. I wonder though…Is he adopted?” Makoto fears that he’s upset Sousuke with this question, and immediately regrets asking it.

“Ah, you noticed. Well, it’s one of the reasons I avoid going to his school. I don’t really want people to talk about it. For him to hear anything weird that’d upset him, you know.” Sousuke looks over his shoulder towards Takashi’s bedroom, sighing once more.

“So, your wife…” Makoto wonders why the hell he’s asking such personal questions, but some deep instinct inside his heart has taken over his mind, and all reason and propriety seem to have walked right out.

“Ah. Right. Well, I guess it’s no harm in telling you? I feel like you’re…trustworthy, I guess. The truth is, my partner left me. About 3 years ago. We adopted Takashi together when he was only 2. Funny thing is, it was always Akihito who wanted a family, not me. But then…I don’t know, it just didn’t work out, and he left us one day.” Sousuke’s eyes glaze over as he gazes at something past Makoto’s shoulder, some distant memory of heartbreak that’s lodged deep inside him.

Makoto gapes at Sousuke, trying to make sense of what he’s just been told.

Sousuke laughs a little derisively at Makoto’s frozen expression.

“Yes. I’m gay. I like men, and I was very much in love with one until he decided to leave me. Akihito broke my heart, but I’ve already forgiven him for that. Still, I’ll never forgive him for leaving Takashi behind. Without a word, or an explanation. Takashi cried himself to sleep every night until…Well, until he met you.” Sousuke’s look of anguish transforms into a sad smile as his eyes find Makoto’s.

“I…It’s not…I’m not judging you or anything for the…the gay thing. I always wondered…Takashi never talks about his family, you know.” Makoto suddenly feels like he wants to shower the same affection on Sousuke as he has on Takashi. He feels the dark-haired man’s broken, lonely heart calling out to him, wants to wrap it up and hold it close, and warm it with all the love he can possibly spare.

Sousuke laughs again at the way Makoto’s blushing, but there is no derision in his voice anymore.

“You’ve really been great for Takashi, and I don’t know how I can thank you. I wish I could be more present in his life, but I don’t want to hurt him, so I hold myself back. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but here we are.” Sousuke looks at Makoto with a gentle smile, and his teal eyes soften, shining a little bit.

“I…Well, I always wanted to yell at you. For not paying attention to Takashi, for not coming to any of the parent-teacher meetings. But I always got the sense that he came from a good home, where he was loved and taken care of. So I didn’t say anything. I’m glad to find out I was right, Yamazaki-san.” Unthinkingly, Makoto reaches out for Sousuke’s hand, and caresses it comfortingly.

There is an awkward moment between the two men as they gaze at each other, unsure of what they’re feeling, as though lost in a dazed daydream shared by them both.

It’s Sousuke who kisses Makoto.

And Makoto lets him.

It’s a slow, sweet kiss, and it wakes up something unknown, overwhelming in both their hearts.

When they break apart, they can’t stop smiling at each other.

Makoto wants to stay right here, by this kotatsu, wanting to feel Sousuke’s weight on top of him, wanting the kiss to resume.

But that would not be right. Not just yet.

“I promised Takashi I’d take him to a cat café this Saturday. It’d be nice if you came along with us.” Makoto puts on his coat with Sousuke’s help, not really wanting to leave just yet.

“That sounds wonderful. I’m sure Takashi will be happy.”

“And you? Will it make you happy too?”

“Yes. It will.”

 

There’s another kiss, shorter and sweeter, before Makoto leaves.

But not before grabbing a pen from his pocket and writing his number on the back of Sousuke’s left hand.

 

 


	9. Physiotherapy Session in a Parking Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can blame this one on bobchalatte, who showed me a rather NSFW picture of two dudes boning in a parking lot, and asked for a drabble inspired by that. Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E for enthusiastic, rough, SouMako parking lot sex. Also some consensual roughness and name-calling.  
> I'm going to hell, I'll see you all there.

Makoto Tachibana wipes the sweat from his forehead, his chest, and  his arms with a towel before braving the gym showers.

What with a fulltime job as a sports medic and several volunteer things he’s signed up for, the couple of hours working out at the gym every other night is the only time he gets for himself. Stepping out of his clothes in the locker room a little self-consciously, he hops energetically under hot water streaming from the shower head, letting the water caress him all over.

He closes his eyes and sighs deeply, trying not to think back on the horrendous week he’s had at work. All thanks to a new patient of his.

A tall, dark, brooding, douchebag of a patient.

Who absolutely refuses to listen to Makoto’s instruction and exerts himself unnecessarily at every physiotherapy session, and makes his shoulder worse instead of letting it heal properly. He appears to be under the misconception that the more he works out, the faster he’ll get better.

Makoto’s dealt with these sorts of patients before- stubborn, with their own opinions about everything, refusing to listen to him. But they all eventually come around and start seeing things his way.

It’s not that Makoto is particularly full of himself. In fact he usually considers himself meddlesome and a bit of a doormat. But he does have an excellent track record with his patients. Sooner or later, they all surrender to his warm smile, his kind words, and his shining green eyes.

But not Yamazaki Sousuke.

Yamazaki’s hard teal eyes glaze over with a maniacal determination, tuning out Makoto’s words, and he keeps pushing himself, despite Makoto asking him repeatedly to slow down.

Though Makoto has forbidden him to work out in a regular gym, the recent deterioration in his condition is enough to let Makoto know that Yamazaki is going ahead and doing as he pleases.

Just yesterday they got into an argument about Yamazaki not being honest about the pain he is experiencing, and not taking his pain medication as instructed by Makoto.

Makoto ended up speaking a little too harshly, and could have sworn that those distant teal eyes clouded over with hurt for an instant, when Makoto accused Yamazaki of not valuing himself enough, of focusing on his pain instead of his recovery, distancing himself from reality like some kind of delusional idiot.

Of course, Makoto apologized frantically right away, but Yamazaki had left without a word, looking dejected instead of displaying his usual derisive anger at everything Makoto tell him.

But it wasn’t Makoto’s fault. So why can’t he stop feeling bad about it? Why did he stay up half the night before, thinking about those teal eyes, picturing the hurt look on the usually stoic and stony face of Yamazaki Sousuke?

If only Yamazaki would talk to him, open up to him. He’d be able to help him, comfort him, soothe his worry, run his fingers calmingly through that tangle of raven hair, let the taller man rest his head against his chest, make him forget his pain, have Yamazaki fall asleep in his arms….

Makoto rubs the shampoo out of his eyes, his face heating up, wondering where such thoughts came from.

But now that they’re here, he cannot banish them from his already messed up mind.

 

Lost in a daze, thinking of how to make things right again with his patient, Makoto wraps a towel around his waist and makes his way towards the steam room.

Through the thick white mist, he can barely make out if the room is empty or not. Usually at this time of the night, with an hour left until the gym closes, Makoto is able to enjoy a relaxing steam all by himself, mulling over the jumble of thoughts in his head, straightening them out.

He goes for his usual spot on a narrow wooden bench, and sits down with a deep sigh, slumping against the wall.

But today he’s not alone.

There is someone sitting next to him.

Someone kind of familiar.

Someone trying not to meet his eyes, averting their face, fidgeting around.

Someone named Yamazaki Sousuke.

 

“You have to be the most stubborn, headstrong, fool of a patient I have ever dealt with, you know?” Makoto laughs a little as he addresses his guilty-looking patient.

Sousuke stops trying to find a discreet method of escaping the steam room and grins at Makoto sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks relaxed, and his eyes soften and glow as they look at Makoto.

“Well, you got me. But in all honesty, I didn’t come here to work out. Believe it or not, I’m just here for the..errr…steam.”

“I don’t entirely believe that, but I’ll give you the benefit of doubt this time, Yamazaki-san.”

Sousuke laughs again, his face easing up.

They both keep catching each other’s eyes, grinning from time to time.

It’s so strange to run into each other in a public space. Removed from the constraints of their professional relationship, they have no idea how to talk to each other.

Makoto relies on his endearingly awkward social grace, and starts talking about meaningless things. The weather, favorite foods, an anime they both happen to be watching.

They become so engrossed in each other’s words that they don’t notice how close they are, how their thighs are almost touching, their shoulders grazing against each other with every movement.

It feels natural, comfortable, to be together like this.

It’s with a sigh of regret that Makoto gets up to go.

He doesn’t realize that his towel has come loose, and can only clutch as it uselessly as it slips to the floor when he stands.

Sousuke gapes directly at his exposed parts as though in a trance, until Makoto starts apologizing, picks up his towel, and races out of the steam room covering his front.

He doesn’t see the smirk lighting up Sousuke’s face as he takes in the very erotic sight of Makoto’s plump, firm ass bouncing along as the brunet escapes the steam room.

 

Makoto quickens his pace as he dresses, wanting to leave the gym as soon as possible. He cannot believe he’s been so absentminded. In front of a patient. In front of Yamazaki.

But then he’s always been a bit of an airhead.

He waves distractedly to the receptionist as he runs out of the gym, and heads to the underground parking lot where his car is. Once he is safely back in his apartment, he can think about what today’s embarrassing events mean. Worst case scenario, he’ll have to ask one of his colleagues to take on Yamazaki’s case.

But he doesn’t really want to have to do that…

Fumbling for his keys in the back pocket of his jeans, it slowly and horrifically dawns on Makoto that he does not have them.

Desperately, frantically, praying to whichever god’s on desk duty at this time of night, Makoto upends his gym bag onto the concrete ground of the parking lot, falls to his knees and starts fumbling through its contents.

 

“Looking for these?”  The voice behind him is low, husky, amused.

Dreading what he already knows to be true, Makoto turns around to face Sousuke.

Jingling in his fingers, with Makoto’s small whale plushie keychain squished between his thumb and middle finger, Sousuke waves the keys in his face.

“Oh.Yeah…Errr…Haha, this must look embarrassing.” Makoto goes red in the face as he starts putting his belongings back into his back.

With slow, measured movements he stands up again, hesitating to look Sousuke in the face as he extends a hand to take his keys back.

But Sousuke snatches them away, dangling them over his head.

“Uhhh…Yamazaki-san?” Makoto finally looks at Sousuke, and is kind of taken aback to see his teal eyes glinting, a lopsided smirk on the slightly taller man’s face.

“What? You want them back, right? Here they are.” Sousuke’s smirk turns decidedly devilish as he jangles the keys just out of Makoto’s reach.

The brunet has never been bullied in his life, and this is a very new experience for him.

It should make him angry, but it’s getting him excited instead. If he wasn’t aware of the pain Sousuke has to endure in his shoulder every day, he would grapple the teal-eyed man right now, shove him to the floor, straddle him, take his keys back….

Makoto’s breathing becomes unbearably heavy, his chest heaving visibly under the thin fabric of his white t-shirt.

“Is it me, or did your nipples just get hard?” Sousuke pockets Makoto’s keys and steps closer, extending the middle finger of his right hand to poke the traitorous pink nubs on Makoto’s chest one by one. At Sousuke’s touch, they become painfully stiff, and Makoto feels like they’ll rip right through his t-shirt.

His chest has always been a major erogenous zone for Makoto.

His head goes in a daze, his arms fall limply to his sides, and he draws in a sharp breath as Sousuke closes the gap between their bodies.

Sousuke is so close. His sweet breath and aftershave and sweat all making Makoto’s head go light.

He slumps against the backdoor of his car, letting Sousuke’s heavier body fall against his.

Sousuke’s tongue flicks out to taste Makoto’s neck, and Makoto’s arms wrap themselves around Sousuke’s waist for support, his fingers lifting Sousuke’s shirt to feel the hot, steam-wet skin underneath.

Sousuke lifts Makoto’s chin with his thumb, and bites his bottom lip. At the same time, he pushes his bulging crotch against Makoto’s, grinding their lower halves together slowly, rhythmically.

Makoto responds to the movements, hungering for more.

Sousuke’s hands drop down to Makoto’s hips as their lips meet properly, and their tongues taste each other’s mouths.

And then Sousuke’s tongue leaves Makoto’s mouth, tracing a wet path down his chin, his neck, the dip between his collarbones. When Sousuke’s teeth find Makoto’s left nipple, biting it over the t-shirt, the mutually responsive movements of their hips increase, until it feels like Makoto will chafe inside his jeans and boxers.

He reaches his hand below his waist and starts struggling with the zipper, finding it with shaking hands and pushing his pants and underwear down to let out his dripping hardness.

 

“So eager, Tachibana-san. How long since you’ve been fucked properly, eh?” Sousuke pulls down his own sweatpants, taking Makoto’s cock in his hand, giving the head a little squeeze, laughing roughly when Makoto let out a little moan of surprise.

“Unnhh…It’s not like that….I just….” Makoto flushes, lowering his long eyelashes, arms now hanging loosely around Sousuke’s neck.

“Now be a good boy and suck my cock. You don’t want it to go inside you without any lubrication, do you?” Sousuke lifts Makoto’s shirt up all the way to his underarms, and tugs at Makoto’s exposed nipples with both hands.

Obediently, his only response a whimpered moan, Makoto falls to his knees for the second time on this absurd night, and takes the tip of Sousuke’s hardness into his mouth. Sousuke grips the his hair hard, groaning with pleasure, and proceeds to facefuck Makoto until the brunet is choking on cum.

“You’re a little too good at this, Tachibana-san. I think I’m getting a bit jealous.” Sousuke forces Makoto to stand up, pulling him up by his hair.

 

Makoto has sucked cock before. Of course he has.

But he has never lost control like this before.

Nothing has felt this fucking good before.

He wants Sousuke to fuck him senseless, drag him home, tie him to his bed, and fuck him again.

 

“You talk too much, Yamazaki-san. Hurry up and fuck me before I change my mind.” Makoto whispers hoarsely in Sousuke’s ear, biting the lobe lightly.

“Oh, you think this is up to you? Think again, you little cock-hungry slut.” Sousuke turns Makoto around roughly, and has him bending over the hood of his car.

Then four of his fingers are in Makoto’s mouth, thrusting back and forth, until they’re all covered with cum and saliva.

When Sousuke starts fingering his asshole, Makoto thinks he’ll lose his head with the ecstasy of it all.

“Unnnhhh…Use your cock, Yamazaki. Or has it gone limp from just one blow job?” Makoto growls the words against the cold metal of his car, making them resound in the empty parking lot.

“You just don’t know how to shut up, do you, Tachibana?” Sousuke enters Makoto’s stretched out asshole all at once with a throaty grunt.

“Annnhhh…Uuuuhhhh….Sousuke….” And just like that, shamelessly using Sousuke’s first name, Makoto rips down the last barrier separating them.

“Ahhhh, you’re so fucking tight, Makoto.” Sousuke responds in kind, slapping Makoto’s ass with both hands.

Sousuke grips Makoto’s hips and starts thrusting, both of their moans echoing in the closed, underground space. Even if someone were to see them like this, they probably wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Ooohhh, you’re so hot inside, Makoto. Your ass is gripping my cock so tight! I’m gonna…Unnhhh…I’ll cum…I’m gonna cum inside you! I’m gonna fill you up Makoto….”

And he does.

Makoto cannot be bothered about the extensive clean-up job he’ll have to perform on himself after he gets home.

This little rendezvous has been worth it.

 

Feeling Sousuke’s body fall against his back, his breath coming out a bit ragged, Makoto suddenly feels himself fill up with concern.

He carefully turns around and takes Sousuke’s face in his hands. His face is pale and sweaty, his eyes scrunched up as if he’s in pain.

“I shouldn’t have let you do this, Yamazaki-san. You’ve hurt yourself again, haven’t you?” Makoto carefully caresses Sousuke’s forehead, feeling how feverish it has become, chewing his lower lip in worry.

“Worth it…” Sousuke suddenly smiles as he lets his body relax against Makoto’s, as though seeking support, seeking comfort.

“Tsk. You really are the most difficult patient I’ve ever dealt with, you know.” Makoto unthinkingly plays with a sweaty strand of Sousuke’s hair, and kisses the top of his head.

He feels Sousuke sighing against his shoulder, where he has rested his head.

“Do you want to come home with me, S-Sousuke?” Now that the rush of their fucking is over with, it feels weird to continue the intimacy they’ve just established between them. But Makoto doesn’t want it to end this.

“So you can take care of me?” Sousuke’s arms gingerly wrap around Makoto’s waist, pulling him close again.

“Yes. It’s my job, isn’t it?” Makoto regrets his words immediately as he feels Sousuke stiffen.

“Ahhh…Right…Your job…Sorry, I kinda got carried away…” Sousuke tries to untangle their bodies, but Makoto pulls him back in.

“That is not what I mean. I don’t usually let my patients fuck me, you know. You’re special.” Makoto hugs Sousuke closer, holding him carefully, like’s someone so fragile and so very precious to Makoto.

When they finally break apart, and their eyes meet again, it’s Sousuke who is blushing, smiling shyly at Makoto.


	10. One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the following playlist prompt:
> 
> "Thistle and Weeds" - Mumford & Sons  
> "Delicate" - Damien Rice  
> "After the Storm" - Mumford & Sons  
> "All These Things That I've Done" - The Killers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rate M for me being an asshole and writing more SouMako angst.

 

He remembers the feel of the camera, heavy in his hands, though he doesn’t want to.

He remembers why he stowed the crumpled up photographs in the back of his closet with the worn-out green sweater that still smells like a mixture of Makoto’s skin and faded cigarette smoke.

But he doesn’t want to remember any of it.

 

It’s been more than a year now.

So why should he still feel this way?

When he is the one who ended it.

When he is the one who wanted to be free of the weight of it all.

_Love._

The very word had smothered him back then. He felt unable to breathe, unable to think.

And all it took was a couple of heartless sentences.

 

_“This isn’t working, Makoto. I can’t do this anymore.”_

 

And that was that.

He’d though maybe Makoto would cry, cling to him, and beg to stay.

But the green eyes he’d seen tear up so many times, pinned under him in bed, asking for more, stayed clear as day that night.

The smile fixed in place, the hand holding on to his slackening its steady grip and falling away.

No more words exchanged between them. No insults and abuses. No resentment , no blame.

Makoto simply picked up his jacket and left the apartment without looking back at all.

 

_I should have run after you._

_I should have held onto your hand._

_I should have…_

 

But Sousuke cannot do any of that, not anymore.

He still remembers the way Makoto looked at him before leaving.

A thousand questions resounding wordlessly in those eyes.

 

_Then why did you say you love me?_

_Why did you take me to bed and look after me and sing to me in your quiet voice at night?_

_What did I mean to you?_

 

Maybe that was part of it.

That Makoto never told him anything.

Never wanted anything from him. Never asked for anything.

The memory of their days together was an unsaid prayer, and Makoto a broken idol he’d forgotten how to worship.

 

They were together for a few months, that was it.

Their friends didn’t think much of their breakup.

They weren’t that similar to begin with, were they?

Makoto with his sunshiny reliability, endless chattering, and good graces.

Sousuke with his brooding thoughts, his sparse laughter, and a general air of quietness.

 

Haru had come to pick up Makoto’s stuff afterwards, but he didn’t  seem too bothered about it.

Sousuke wanted to ask him how Makoto was doing, how he was holding up, but the words caught in his throat and he could only stare at the floor until Haru left.

 

Regret started haunting his greying soul as days flickered by, each of them empty of Makoto’s presence, burning with the memory of him.

He’d find himself hanging out at disreputable bars on weekends, looking for a quick fuck.

One had Makoto’s smile.

One had green eyes, but not quite the same color as Makoto’s.

One wore his hair the same way Makoto did.

 

But none of them were Makoto.

And with every month, Sousuke became more and more aware of it.

And his memories would not leave him alone.

And he sank deeper and deeper.

 

_The loss of you falls on me like an endless rain._

_It seeps into my skin and buries deep inside my heart._

_It hurts with every breath, every moment, all the time._

_I cannot escape the absence of you._

 

Most nights, he drinks away the pain, gulping down cheap beer without tasting anything.

Cigarette butts litter the floor of his cramped living room, smoldering dangerously.

He drinks to forget, but it always makes him remember more and more anyway.

He’s probably addicted to the pain of remembrance.

 

There are six photographs in all in the back of his closet.

 

The first is of Makoto lying in the grass, surrounded by a host of wild daisies, glowing white and bright around his head like a floral halo.

Sousuke remembers straddling Makoto to take it, remembers how Makoto laughed and tried to push him away. How they ended up kissing for hours amidst the grass and flowers afterwards.

 

The second shows Makoto staring at the setting sun, his face in profile, lost in thought, a faint smile of contentment on his face.

Sousuke remembers falling in love with Makoto that evening, and forgetting to breathe, completely awed by the realization.

 

The third one is of them both, Sousuke kissing Makoto’s cheek, laughing at the camera with their eyes closed. The sunlight streams across half the frame, blinding them to each other.

Sousuke remembers the way Makoto’s hips moved that night, remembers the warmth which engulfed him as he thrust inside Makoto, remembers their voices mingling dully with each other, remembers their bodies slick with sweat on that humid summer’s night.

 

The fourth photograph is of him. Lighting up a cigarette, strands of stray hair across his eyes, hand held up against the wind, the wild green ocean behind him.

Sousuke remembers Makoto taking this one when he wasn’t looking. It’s a blurred photograph, inexpertly taken. He remembers trying to snatch the camera away, falling on top of Makoto, blowing cigarette smoke in his face, kissing his forehead.

 

The fifth photograph is of Makoto talking to a stray cat in the snow. Knees bent, heedless of the cold, chattering away happily.

Sousuke remembers falling in love with Makoto all over again that day.

 

The sixth one is of a window in Sousuke’s apartment, almost opaque with the rush of rain pouring outside. If you look close enough, you can see the two of them reflected in the rain-blurred window pane.

Sousuke remembers how Makoto had run to his apartment all the way from the station, without an umbrella. He was soaked by the time he got to Sousuke’s, and took off all his clothes as soon as he was inside the door, dripping rain water all over Sousuke’s floor. Sousuke still remembers the scent of him, mixed with rain, and their lovemaking.  

 

The sixth photograph is the one that always breaks his heart. Snaps it in two neat, evenly shattered pieces.

 

He is already on his third beer, and his mind is a haze of nauseous regret and unfulfilled desire.

Without thinking, the crumpled photograph shoved in the back pocket of his jeans, he runs out as he is, without a jacket, without an umbrella.

The rain is no more than a drizzle tonight.

His feet know the way, and his heart pounds with every step.

 

When Makoto answers the door, he doesn’t really look surprised.

Just worried, green eyes full of concern at the dishevelled man in front of him, damp from the rain and his own sweat.

Sousuke’s breath stinks of alcohol and cigarettes, but none of that matters when he grabs Makoto by the waist and pulls him close.

The kiss doesn’t last very long.

Sousuke breaks down, weeping on Makoto’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist.

 

_“Sorry. Sorry. I’m so sorry.”_

And,

_“It’s okay, Sousuke.”_

And,

_“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I can’t  stop myself from loving you, Makoto.”_

And,

_“I know.”_

 

After Sousuke falls asleep, Makoto finds the remains of the sixth photograph on the floor, next to his bed, discarded among the heap of Sousuke’s clothes.

He straightens it out and looks at it long and close.

He has no memory of the day it was taken, but he still picks up a book from his bedside table and carefully places the photograph inside it.

A memory to keep safe for the years to come.

The knowledge of love and of being loved.

The days spent waiting, the things they’ve both done, and words they left unsaid.

A new beginning, piecing together all the broken bits of their separate lives.

Flowers growing bright and white from dry thistles and dead weeds.

 

Rain patters ceaselessly against the window of Makoto’s bedroom that night.

Sousuke and Makoto sleep together, tangled up with each other, slowly forgetting the ache of being apart.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Goodbye, Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this playlist prompt:
> 
> Say Something (I'm Giving Up on You) - A Great Big World  
> I Hate This Part - The Pussycat Dolls  
> Set Fire to the Rain - Adele  
> When I was Your Man - Bruno Mars  
> Somebody That I Used to Know - Gotye  
> Someone Like You - Adele
> 
> In all honesty, it's mostly inspired by the last 2 songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for the fact that I'm not allowed to write pure angst for the bara dorks anymore, so here's something which is mostly angsty but with a happy ending.  
> Why will no one let me write straight up SouMako angst?

They’d become friends in Tokyo.

They didn’t go to the same university, and had chosen vastly different careers, but somehow, they got close to each other.

At first it was just getting together with the rest of their friends for drinks once a month, at little impromptu Iwatobi/Samezuka reunions.

When Rin and Haru went off to compete, it was only natural for Sousuke and Makoto to watch them on TV together, making bets on who would win, shouting and cheering for their best friends.

And then they were hanging out at each other’s apartments even when there was nothing to watch, nothing to talk about.

Sometimes, Makoto brought his books over and studied while Sousuke cooked for them.

On weekends, they’d go out to bars, drinking beer (Makoto only pretending to like it because Sousuke did), and joking about picking up girls.

They never did do that though.

They’d somehow end up drunk and asleep in the same bed, half-undressed, bodies touching cautiously even as they dreamed.

 

Before long, they knew everything about each other. They went shopping together, and Makoto would even call Sousuke up at odd hours of the night to tell him about weird dreams he had, or share his panic about a nightmare, letting Sousuke calm him down.

Leaving clothes and toothbrushes and notebooks at each other’s places.

Borrowing books or games, forgetting to return them, because it didn’t really matter. They might as well be living together given the amount of time they spent with each other.

 

And during their third year in Tokyo, they ended up renting a small two-bedroom apartment together. It became a hangout spot for all their friends, new and old. With Makoto’s kindness and Sousuke’s excellent cooking skills, it exuded the warmth of home to everyone who dropped by.

 

It was probably six months later that Makoto walked in on Sousuke showering.

And though they both tried to laugh it off, something changed after that.

Makoto started avoiding Sousuke, becoming averse to even sitting together on the couch to watch TV.

And Sousuke realized that he wanted much more from Makoto that the brunet could ever give him.

 

The only kiss they ever shared was the one Makoto stole when Sousuke was sleeping off his 6 Saturday night beers. Sousuke never knew, and Makoto never said a word.

 

When Makoto suddenly got a girlfriend- a senpai from his university- a pretty girl with long wavy hair and sparkling brown eyes, Sousuke could only gape at him.

He regained his composure quickly, smiling at them both, congratulating Makoto on finding such a nice companion for himself.

After that, Makoto spent more time at his girlfriend’s apartment that he did at their shared little home.

Sousuke made a habit of picking up whoever caught his eye and bringing them home. Especially on nights he knew Makoto would be in.  He knew it was petty and stupid, but his heart hurt too much for him to give a shit.

Cowardice and regret and unrequited love festered inside both their hearts, and Sousuke felt like he would mad from the pain of it. Being so close to what he wanted, and unable to reach for it. Again.

He felt himself breaking again.

And this time, there was no smiling pair of bright green eyes to put him back together.

 

It was Makoto’s decision to move out after graduating.

Sousuke kept the apartment, desperate to hold on to whatever he had left of Makoto.

 

Years slipped past, and they lost touch with each other.

When they happened to run into each other at their friends’ houses or ended up at parties to celebrate Rin or Haru’s victories, they were perfectly civil with each other.

As if they’d forgotten what it was like to live together, to be together and laugh together. They treated each other as passing acquaintances- people they used to know back in the day, but no one of importance.

 

Makoto found a permanent job in Tokyo, and Sousuke took over his father’s business back home, unable to find a new dream for himself.

Rin settled down in Australia, and Haru went back to his quiet home by the ocean in Iwatobi.

Rei and Nagisa travelled to Europe together, and returned with matching wedding bands on their ring fingers.

 

The wedding reception Nagisa and Rei hosted in Iwatobi was excessive to say the least.

They all came, most of them with wives or husbands, and even a toddler or two.

Only Haru was by himself, though he appeared perfectly content with his solitude.

 

 

On the night of the party, Makoto and Sousuke end up arriving together, clutching identical bottles of mediocre wine, all by themselves.

Sousuke doesn’t dare ask about Makoto’s girlfriend.

He doesn’t know which response would be worse to bear.

If Makoto is still with her, Sousuke would go back alone again, cursing his fate.

If Makoto has broken up, then Sousuke promised himself he would confess, no matter what it took. He was sure Makoto would refuse him. And maybe that would be more painful than to continue suffering in silence.

 

Somehow, they end up sitting next to each other on one of the round tables dressed up in yellow and purple bows and pink tablecloths, groaning under the weight of colossal centrepieces Rei has put together himself- haphazard concoctions of origami swans and red roses infested with chocolate-flavored Parisian macarons.

Sousuke sips slowly at a glass of sparkling champagne, trying not to stare at how good Makoto looks in a suit, his hair combed back and shiny with a little too much gel. He avoids drinking any more, trying to steel himself for the question he knows he has to ask Makoto.

To Sousuke’s surprise.Makoto downs 3 glasses of champagne one after the other, taking small breaks to nibble at the macarons he keeps picking off the centrepiece. His face is a little red, and before reaching for his fourth glass, Makoto loosens his tie, exposing his perfect collarbones.

Sousuke cannot help but ogle at him, wanting to nibble at Makoto’s neck, to press down on Makoto’s nipples and figure out how sensitive they are.

Makoto catches him staring and blushes profusely, stuttering mid-sentence, forgetting what he was talking about.

 

They keep chattering about pointless things, carefully avoiding any talk about the life they shared in Tokyo years ago.

Soon, they are the only two people left at their table, everyone else having gotten up to dance.

 

Sousuke knows exactly what he wants as he looks up at Makoto.

It’s now or never.

 

“So…Errr…How come you’re here on your own, Makoto? What about that cute senpai of yours?” Sousuke feels his heart stop as he waits for Makoto to reply.

“Oh…I broke up with her…A while ago, actually…” Makoto doesn’t look the least bit hurt or disappointed. Instead, his eyes are carefully scanning Sousuke’s face, looking for some sort of reaction.

“Ahhh…That sucks, man…I mean…” This is not what Sousuke should be saying. He knows, yet he cannot find the strength to tell Makoto how happy he is to hear that Makoto is single again.

“Does it, Sousuke? Are you really upset to hear that I’m not with her anymore?” Makoto’s eyes are two sharp pinpoints of light, focused on Sousuke.

The music in the background turns to a distant hum. The dancers whirl around in a blur.

“I…No…I’m not upset. Is it cruel of me to say that I’m happy to see you on your own?” Sousuke leans close to Makoto, careful to make every word clearly heard.

“Yes, it is. You are cruel, Sou. You always have been.” Makoto’s hand finds Sousuke’s under the table, and their fingers curl around each other’s.

“I could say the same about you, couldn’t I Makoto?” Sousuke leans his head on Makoto’s shoulder, sighing, tightening his hold on Makoto’s hand.

Makoto says nothing at all.

He gently pushes Sousuke away and stands up.

Startled and suddenly afraid, Sousuke reaches for him, desperate to keep holding on.

 Makoto laughs a little at Sousuke’s look of panic, and extends a hand towards him.

 

“May I have this dance, Yamazaki-san?”

 

They keep dancing close, late into the night, arms wrapped around waists, heads leaning on shoulders.

The silence they share is whirling with memories and words from years ago. Late December evenings spent on a cramped old couch in their tiny Tokyo apartment, drinking hot chocolate and watching something stupid on TV. Unbearably humid days in June, eating cheap popsicles and fighting over who got to hog the one shitty fan they owned.

A whole life of finding each other, loving each other quietly, and losing each other that they’ve already lived through.

And a new one waiting for them ahead, to love each other once more, with all their hearts.


	12. Our Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a rejected early chapter from "Dark Heart, Bright Eyes", that notoriously awful fic of mine with its cheap emotional tropes which I normally use to collect fan feels and creys I suppose.  
> It was meant to end tragically and quite early, and I think now that may have been the best thing to do with that fic.  
> This fragment is set quite early in the fic, when Makoto was still living at Sousuke's castle, and the rule Sousuke made about not sleeping in the same bed together was still intact.  
> Trigger warning for physical abuse.  
> Do NOT read this if you are unfamiliar with my fic, or averse to pure angst and douchey, super seme depictions of Sousuke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E for depictions of abuse and violence.

When I wake up, everything feels strange, dark, crowded. My body is covered in sweat and my thighs are sticky with cum. Reminders of the night before. But that’s not possible. I always clean myself up after I come back to my room, before I go to bed.

After I come back to my room…

He is clutching me so tightly, I feel like my chest is in a vise. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let myself fall asleep in his arms? I have to get out before he finds me here, I have to free myself. Somehow, after what seems like an eternity, I manage to untangle our limbs, I slip out of bed, and he’s still asleep. The heavy drapes blocking the sunlight from the window make it seem like it’s still dark outside. Praying that it’s still night, I tiptoe towards my discarded clothes, holding my breath.

It happens just like it did when I was younger, in another lifetime.

The resounding crash is heard throughout the room. The walls echo with it. The glass vase with days-old roses in it falls to the floor and breaks into a hundred shards. I am too stunned to move. I am still naked. I have no excuse for being here. My guilt is inscribed all over my body, where his teeth lingered last night, sucking, biting.

He wakes up slowly, like a storm building up on the far horizon. When he sees me standing in the wreckage of glass and desiccated petals, his brow furrows. It takes him a minute to put together what’s happened. I look at him desperately, silently begging him to pretend not to see me as I am, to go back to sleep.

With his gaze still fixed on me, his frown still in place, he gets up and puts on his robe. He walks towards me, grabs me by the hair and slaps me so hard across the face I fall to the floor, my knees impaled by the scattered remains of the broken vase.

“Is it so very hard to follow such a basic fucking rule? Are you a fucking idiot?” His voice cuts deeper than the glass, his eyes burn me more than the imprint he’s left on my cheek.

“I’m sorry, I swear it won’t happen again, my lord. Please.” I’m desperate, I’m on my knees, I’m bleeding, I’m begging. I’ll do anything, anything at all to stay by his side.

“Get out. Now.”

“No…” My voice is nothing more than a whimper, my eyes are fixed on the floor, my lip is bleeding from where he’s struck me, but I won’t go. He will have to kill me. I will be one of the ghosts that haunt this damned house. But I will never leave.

“What’s this commotion so early in the morning? Are you being murdered?” Takano barges in, looking dishevelled and grumpy. He stops short at the entrance, gaping at the scene in front of him. Quick as lighting, he closes the door behind him and locks it.

“What is happening here? Makoto, you’re hurt.”

“He will be dead if he doesn’t get out right now. Get him out of here, Takano. Now! That’s an order!”

“But…what’s happened?”

“He is not supposed to sleep in my bed. He is supposed to take his filth with him and leave after I’m done fucking him. And yet here he is.” Every word is aimed at my heart, every word kills me- again, and again, and again.

“Maybe you should let him explain himself, young lord, before you do something rash?”

“I will cut him up and feed him to the dogs. If he doesn’t leave my sight right now and return to whatever hole he crawled out of, I will kill him with my bare hands.” He means it. I can hear it in his voice. He means every word.

“Then do it. Kill me. Kill me right now. I’m sick of my life anyway…” I’m voice is nothing more than a whisper, tears are running down my face, stinging the bruise on my cheek. But I will not go.

I won’t leave, I won’t leave, I won’t leave. Crouching amidst the broken glass, my knees torn bloody, I refuse to get up, I refuse to leave his presence.

“Have him thrown out then. I don’t want to see his face anymore.”

“Sousuke, you are being unreasonable.” I have never heard Takano use his birth name before. Despite the situation, I want my tongue to savor it too; I want to call him by it. I want him to hold me, I want to sleep next to him, encircled in his warmth, and never wake up. As Lord Sousuke starts shouting in anger, my head begins to feel heavy, everything is going red, and then darkness takes me.


	13. Like an Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt by XxLevixX, who wanted a fireman Makoto stripping for Sousuke, to Nine Inch Nails' "Closer".  
> Happy (one day) belated birthday!! Sorry I couldn't finish this on time. Hope you had a wonderful day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rate E for extremely super seme Sousuke having his way with Makoto in pretty underwear.

It isn’t exactly Sousuke’s thing, but Rin insisted on going, and dragging him along.

A charity fundraiser organized by the local fire department to raise money for a homeless shelter. It was a good cause, Sousuke thought, and there were going to be free donuts and free beer.

Not to mention Makoto had asked him and Rin repeatedly _not_ to come.

That would have been enough to pique Sousuke’s curiosity if the promise of free beer hadn’t already done the job.

After some detective work, Sousuke and Rin found out that the fundraiser involved a certain strip show, featuring a certain friend of theirs.

A brunet with green eyes and a sculpted, gracefully muscular body, which Sousuke sometimes thought about while jerking off.

Very unintentionally.

Or at least that’s what he likes to tell himself.

They’re very good friends, and Sousuke values Makoto too much to jeopardize what they have. But that doesn’t stop him from fantasizing once in a while.

Of course he’s seen Makoto mostly naked many times during their high school swimming days, but the prospect of the brunet removing his clothes in a crowded room, to the thumping beat of a rock song (hopefully), his face burning, his eyelashes lowered in embarrassment- it sets Sousuke’s heart beating faster than a bullet train.

If he can’t pin Makoto down and lick his face and chest like he wants to, he can at least treat himself to a little striptease featuring his secret crush.

 

On the appointed day, Rin and Sousuke head over to the bar where the fundraiser is being held along with a few other colleagues of theirs. Just to make a point of it, they’re all still wearing their cop uniforms, to properly rub in their age old rivalry with the fire department.

Makoto is nowhere to be seen as Sousuke sits down on a stool at the bar counter and orders a beer. Rin follows suit, and soon they’re both busy chattering and catcalling the fire fighters who walk past them, bearing trays loaded with free donuts.

Sousuke keeps scanning the room, unable to focus on the conversation, wondering when Makoto will come out. He is more eager than he expected to be, and it’s messing with his composure. If he’s like this now, how will be keep himself from drooling when Makoto is actually on stage, shaking his ass at everyone?

That is a question Sousuke would rather not know the answer to.

Suddenly agitated, he stands up and almost spills his beer all over Rin.

“Going somewhere?” Rin grabs at his wrist and smirks a little too knowingly.

“Ahhh…Yeah, I think I’m gonna head back now. This is…” Sousuke feels his face heating up, thinking with ever greater urgency of a naked Makoto.

“I am not letting you chicken out, Sou. You will sit here, and you will watch Makoto shake his probably naked behind in front of us all, and you will like it.” Rin forces Sousuke back onto the stool, smiling triumphantly.

Sousuke’s agitation increases as times passes by without any sign of Makoto. Rin and a few of his other friends drag him into a charity poker game, and he loses magnificently, unable to focus on anything but what lies ahead.

This situation would be simpler to handle if he could see Makoto before the strip tease starts. They can joke around, maybe Sousuke can tease him a little, ease the tension.

But apparently, Makoto is either running late or is too shy to show his face beforehand.

Nursing another beer, watching Rin flirt outrageously with the cute fireman who is bartending for the evening, Sousuke tries to focus on thoughts which do not involve Makoto. And fails.

 

He can’t exactly pinpoint the moment he developed a crush on the green-eyed man, but it was probably a year ago that his feelings started changing. Makoto stopped being someone he hung out with once in a while, and turned into someone who was on his mind a lot. And then the fantasies invaded his mind, involving Makoto in various stages of undress- panting, sweating, moaning…

The desire to touch Makoto, to hold him close, to run a finger along his soft lips, to taste his mouth, to sleep next to him- it all slowly seeped into Sousuke consciousness until he could think of nothing else.

 

Lost in his daydreams, Sousuke has to be pinched on his forearm by Rin to draw his attention to the fading lights.

A spotlight shines on the stage area of the bar, where local bands usually perform on weekend nights. Someone from the fire department Sousuke doesn’t really recognize makes a few suggestive dick jokes on the mic, to general laughter and applause. He goes on to talk about Makoto losing a bet and drawing the short straw for the fundraiser performances.

There is a lot of hooting and catcalling, and the visceral beat of a rock song begins to play.

Makoto steps out, blushing furiously, wearing his usual firefighter’s outfit that Sousuke’s seen him wearing countless times before. He wonders if Makoto’s wearing nice boxers or something underneath, and how far this little strip tease will go.

The beat is consistent, and though Sousuke can barely make out the lyrics, he knows what the words are implying. He shifts uncomfortably on his stool, closing his legs.

 

**_You let me violate you_ **

**_You let me desecrate you_ **

**_You let me penetrate you_ **

**You let me complicate you**  
  


 

Makoto is either very shy, or not a good dancer at all.

He starts with shaking his hips a little, looking at his feet.

There’s a little bit of booing from a corner of the bar, and a voice challenges Makoto to pick up the pace.

Sousuke leans forward despite himself for a closer look, as Makoto’s hips begin gyrating with an increased enthusiasm. He can’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have Makoto next to him in the dark anonymity of a club late at night, with nothing but the music and the dim lights to keep them company.

As he watches Makoto thrusting his crotch at the cheering crowd, Sousuke can’t help but feel a little jealous. This sight belongs to him alone. No one else should get to see it.

And then he remembers that Makoto has no idea how he feels about the brunet, how much in love he already is with Makoto, and a weight plunges from Sousuke's dry throat to the pit of his stomach, making his heart sink with it. He takes a gulp of cold beer to shake the feeling and keeps watching.

 

**_Help me_ **

**_I broke apart my insides_ **

**_Help me_ **

**_I've got no soul to sell_ **

**_Help me_ **

**_The only thing that works for me_ **

**_Help me get away from myself_ **

  
When Makoto’s shirt comes off, and the sweat begins to drip off his forehead, making the brunet’s perfectly sculpted abs and slim hips shine with the slickness of it under the low glow of the bar’s weak spotlight, Sousuke is pretty sure there is altogether too much blood rushing down to his cock. It’s a good thing the rest of the bar is too dark for anyone to notice the slight bulge forming in his pants.

A few people start throwing 1000 yen bills at the stage, and Makoto becomes bolder at the attention, winking at the crowd. He leans off the stage towards a particularly beefy-looking cop from another precinct Sousuke has never seen before, who is pointing for the brunet to come closer. Makoto’s uniform suspenders are still on, though his shirt is long gone. The cop pulls at them both, snapping them back against Makoto’s nipples.

Makoto’s brownish pink nipples. Little pointy nubs standing up against indecently large areolas, the sight of which makes Sousuke go crazy with lust.

Instead of yelping or blushing even more like Sousuke expects him to, Makoto pulls the man in by his tie and simulates a kiss without actually making physical contact. The crowd goes wild, and Rin even stands up to cheer, as the lucky cop shoves a 5000 yen note into the hem of Makoto’s pants.

Sousuke feels numb all over, burning with a mixture of desire and unadulterated rage towards the man who is now getting high fives from his friends, and looking very pleased with himself.

**_I want to fuck you like an animal_ **

**_I want to feel you from the inside_ **

**_I want to fuck you like an animal_ **

**_My whole existence is flawed_ **

**_You get me closer to God_ **

No one is prepared for the sight which greets them when Makoto removes his boots, and then his pants.

Sousuke forgets to breathe, and Rin drops his tequila shot on the floor, shattering the little glass.

A number of  “holy shits” and “woahs” sound out from across the bar.

Makoto is wearing what are very obviously black silk stocking and suspenders. A black silk thong with lace trimmings is the only things covering his sizeable bulge.

This time Makoto ignores the crowd, and Sousuke feels his green eyes searching the room, and finding Sousuke’s teal gaze.

There is the slightest hint of a wicked little smile and a wink aimed at Sousuke before Makoto turns around and bends over as gracefully as a ballerina. Sousuke gasps a little too loudly at the sight of Makoto’s exposed ass, bouncing naughtily as he moves, the thing lace strap of the thong lost between Makoto’s plump buttocks.

 

**_You can have my isolation_ **

**_You can have the hate that it brings_ **

**_You can have my absence of faith_ **

**_You can have my everything_ **

 

Someone from the back of the stage quickly runs on with a pair of black heels and hands them to Makoto, who puts them on with an easy elegance.

Strands of drool drip from Sousuke’s parted lips as he continues watching Makoto dance around in silk and lace and a pair of very high black heels. The shouting, cheering and catcalling almost drown out the music.

 

Sousuke is still in a daze when Makoto takes a final bow, gathers his discarded uniform and walks off the stage.

Laughing appreciatively, Rin turns away from the stage to face him, and Sousuke slowly returns to his senses.

As the lights start coming back on, he suddenly becomes aware of the painful chafing inside his pants, and crosses his legs.

“That was something, huh. No wonder he didn’t want us to see.” Rin elbows Sousuke, his eyes glinting with suppressed glee.

Sousuke doesn’t say a word. He calls for another beer and downs it in one go.

Wiping his lips on his sleeve, he takes a deep breath and makes up his mind.

“Wish me luck Rin.” And just like that, he follows his instincts backstage, to where Makoto has disappeared.

 

It isn’t easy to walk with the hardness of his cock struggling against his boxers and pants, but he manages to find the dingy little dressing room.

The door is open, and Sousuke quickly slips inside, locking the door behind him.

Makoto is sitting before a large mirror, bordered with lightbulbs, using a white hand towel to wipe  the sweat off of his face and chest.

He jumps up, startled by Sousuke’s sudden appearance.

Sousuke leans against the locked door, staring intently at the brunet.

In the silence, their eyes speak the words they have never been able to say.

This would be the time for a confession, for a sweetly shared kiss upon realizing that their feelings are mutual, but their bodies and minds are already way past that stage.

The hunger Sousuke feels inside his soul seems to be perfectly reflected in the shine of Makoto’s green eyes.

 

“So-uhhh-did you like it?” Makoto stands up after a while, and approaches Sousuke slowly.

“What do you think?” Sousuke simply points at the very visible erection he is sporting.

“Oh…Errrr…Is that because of me?” Makoto doesn’t sound shy or confused at all. He smiles softly, seductively as he comes even closer to Sousuke.

It’s a very open invitation, and Sousuke responds by grabbing Makoto’s forearms and pulling him closer.

“You’re gonna have to take responsibility for the way you’ve made me feel, Tachibana-san.” Sousuke smirks a little, addressing Makoto formally to tease him a little. 

 

**_Help me_ **

**_Tear down my reason_ **

**_Help me_ **

**_It's your sex I can smell_ **

**_Help me_ **

**_You make me perfect_ **

**_Help me become somebody else_ **

 

There is a moment of hesitation, their faces so close to each other’s that Sousuke can count every single one of Makoto’s eyelashes if he wants.

Then Sousuke lunges for Makoto’s neck, sucking on the soft skin underneath his left earlobe, grabbing him by the hips and drawing him closer, moving his bulge against Makoto’s crotch to ease the aching hardness a little.

Makoto responds to the movement by pushing himself up against Sousuke, and moans in a low, throaty whisper. His fingers trace the outline of Sousuke’s cock, rubbing gently and teasingly, before unzipping the slightly taller man’s pants and tugging at his underwear to expose the erection concealed underneath.

“How do you want me to take care of you, Sousuke?” Without waiting for answer, Makoto kneels in front of him, and takes his hardness in both hands, stroking expertly.

Sousuke thinks of the experience Makoto must have had, and it awakens a feeling of jealousy and desire inside him that he has never felt before.

“Take it in your mouth, Makoto. Do it properly.” His fingers grab onto the sweaty tangles of brown hair, and he pushes his hard cock against Makoto’s lips.

Makoto starts by licking the precum dripping from the slit of Sousuke’s cock. Sousuke’s knees weaken as the brunet takes him fully into his mouth, right to the back of his throat, sucking on him intently. The inside of Makoto’s mouth is warm and wet, and it makes Sousuke think what it would be like to fuck his slick asshole.

The curiosity burns through him, and he realizes that if he’s going to cum, he wants to use Makoto’s lower half for it. He wants to fill Makoto up with his hot semen, and watch the green eyes tear up with the agony and ecstasy of being fucked into a state of frenzied lust, where Makoto forgets everything other than the shape and feeling of Sousuke’s cock inside him.

 

 

**_I want to fuck you like an animal_ **

**_I want to feel you from the inside_ **

**_I want to fuck you like an animal_ **

**_My whole existence is flawed_ **

**_You get me closer to God_ **

 

Sousuke’s pulls Makoto’s lips off his cock, tugging at his hair to get him to stand up.

One sloppy kiss later, tasting his own juices from the sweetness of Makoto’s mouth, Sousuke has the brunet bending over the dressing table, his flushed face reflected in the mirror so Sousuke doesn’t miss a single expression on Makoto’s face.

“You ready, Makoto? If you don’t want this, tell me now. Because I’m gonna wreck your little asspussy with my cock.”

Makoto’s only response is to grip the sides of the dressing table firmly with both hands, raising his hips so his buttocks are fully exposed to Sousuke’s admiring gaze.

The fabric of the thong is still caught up between Makoto’s buttocks, soaked in sweat and the precum that is starting to leak from Makoto’s growing erection. Sousuke takes the waistband of the thong, and tugs it up so that it rubs against Makoto’s opening.

Makoto moans loud enough to wake the dead, and Sousuke lets go, worried that someone will come knocking at the door and ruin this moment.

“You have to be quiet, Makoto. Or do you want everyone to know you’re in here offering your ass up to me?” Sousuke shoves a couple of fingers inside Makoto’s mouth, and the brunet starts sucking on them instinctively, without even being asked.

Sousuke pushes his cock up against Makoto’s butt, sliding it between the plump, firm cheeks. Makoto’s butt is firm as a perfectly ripe peach and red as a fresh strawberry. The thong is in Sousuke’s way so he takes his fingers out of Makoto’s mouth, leaving him to gasp and drool all over the dressing table, and rips it off with both hands. He leaves the stockings and the suspenders holding them up intact. Makoto is still wearing the black heels, and bent over like this in front of Sousuke, he looks like the sexiest and filthiest sight in the world.

Wanting a taste of the twitching pink hole in front of him, Sousuke is the one who kneels this time, kneading Makoto’s buttocks with both hands before pulling them apart to expose his entrance properly.

As soon as Sousuke’s tongue makes contact with the pink hole, Makoto moans so loudly that Sousuke is sure everyone in the bar outside can hear him, even over the din of the music.

“This won’t do, Makoto.” Sousuke briefly stands up again and picks the ripped up thong off the floor. After forcing Makoto’s mouth open with his fingers, and grabbing his tongue for a quick lick, Sousuke gags Makoto with the black silk.

Makoto’s eyes glaze over with lust and he starts moving his hips, thrusting his ass back at Sousuke, wordlessly asking him to continue. And Sousuke happily obliges, sticking his tongue inside Makoto’s anus, tasting it properly, until Makoto’s hips are jerking uncontrollably, his cock twitching with the buildup of an approaching orgasm.

“You’re not cumming without my cock inside your ass, you naughty fireman.” Licking his lips to savor Makoto’s flavor, Sousuke stands up and grabs Makoto’s hair. The thong is removed from Makoto’s mouth, and Sousuke’s tongue is shoved down his throat.

“How does this taste, Makoto? My cock and your ass? You love this, don’t you, you little slut?”

“Y-Yes, Sousuke. I love it. I love being your slut. Please, fuck me now. I want your throbbing cock inside me. Stir me up and fill me with your seed. I want you so much.”

Sousuke slides in easily, his eyes focused on Makoto’s reflection in the mirror, taking in every detail.

As he starts to move inside Makoto, hands firmly placed on the brunet’s waist, Makoto starts moaning softly, encouraging him with words so filthy, Sousuke would never imagine that someone as angelic-looking as this green-eyed brunet would even know what they meant.

When Sousuke is about to cum, Makoto pushes up against him, refusing to let him pull out.

As Sousuke’s ejaculate fills up Makoto’s asshole, oozing outside, Makoto cums with a shudder, and collapses upon the table.

Sousuke realizes that Makoto’s cock has been untouched throughout the whole session, and he’s cum purely by the feeling of Sousuke’s hardness pumping inside him. It’s a wonderful thought, and Sousuke could not have asked for a better first time with Makoto.

 

As soon as it’s over, Makoto returns to his bashful self, completely embarrassed by the things they’ve just done together. The change is so endearing that Sousuke gathers Makoto up in a bear hug and whispers soothing words in his ears to calm him down. But this only makes Makoto blush harder and redder than before.

Sousuke helps Makoto get cleaned up after putting his clothes back on, and kisses the brunet’s heated forehead before taking him by the hand and leading him out of the little dressing room.

Sousuke refuses to let go of Makoto even after they return to the crowded bar, and find empty stools next to Rin.

“That didn’t take very long.” Rin raises an eyebrow at both his friends, ordering a beer for Sousuke and a tequila shot for Makoto, who hates the taste of beer.

“It was long enough.” Sousuke slips an arm around Makoto’s waist as he takes a careful sip of beer, letting the bitterness of it mix with the taste of their lovemaking in his mouth.

It’s a flavor he can easily get addicted to.

 

 

**_Through every forest above the trees_ **

**_Within my stomach scraped off my knees_ **

**_I drink the honey inside your hive_ **

**You are the reason I stay alive**  
  


 

Rin starts laughing and Makoto hides his face against Sousuke’s shoulder, blushing again.

The confession will have to wait a little longer.

The feeling of love they’ve shared together is enough for now.

 

An hour later, Sousuke and Makoto are on a train, heading back to Makoto’s apartment to continue their night.

Neither of them realizes that Makoto is still wearing the black heels.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Kuro and Caramel and Sousuke and Makoto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the adorable cafe artwork with waiters Sousuke and Makoto and their cute kitties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for making out and eating cake.

The rivalry between Café Iwatobi and Samezuka Sweets went back farther than anyone could remember.

Located across the street from each other, probably as old as the little town itself, it was rumored that the two feuding families did this for a challenge, to see who could put the other out of business faster.

Luckily, the townspeople thoroughly enjoyed this spirit of competitiveness between the Iwatobi and Samezuka clans, and always made sure to give both shops enough business to keep them going.

 

Makoto Tachibana started working as a waiter at Café Iwatobi back in high school, taking it up as a part time job to earn some extra pocket money. His best friend Haru started out in the kitchen at around the same time.

Haru’s family had owned the café for a few years now, and by the time they both graduated from university, Haru made up his mind to take over as the head chef. When he asked Makoto to join him as manager and maître d', the brunet could hardly resist. Four years of attending university in Tokyo had already been too much for him. He wanted to go back home, to the quietness of his happy little town by the ocean, to everything he knew and loved.

It was the perfect job for him, and he accepted Haru’s offer wholeheartedly.

Only he didn’t know that the job would involve keeping Haru from ripping out the throat of Rin Matsuoka, the maître d' of Samezuka Sweets, on a daily basis.

Rin had a mouth on him that didn’t know when to quit, and he had a knack for knowing exactly what would set Haru off.

He made it a habit of coming to their café once a week, and ordering a three course meal. He took his time eating it, and then forced Makoto to note down his review of every item he had consumed.

The whole fiasco almost always ended in Haru charging at Rin, running out from the back, a soup ladle raised high above his head. Makoto would have to grab Haru before any blood was shed, and Rin was ceremoniously dragged back to his own shop by a very tired looking Sousuke Yamazaki, who always somehow showed up  just in time to help Makoto prevent a disaster from occurring.

Makoto still hadn’t exchanged a word with the hulking, brooding mass of handsomeness with piercing teal eyes. All they did was mirror each other’s tired smiles, while manhandling their respective bosses and best friends.

Makoto often wondered why Haru and Rin had it in for each other. But when he finally discovered the reason, he wish he’d never known.

After one particularly heated exchange, which involved Rin criticizing the amount of salt Haru used in his grilled saba recipe and Haru returned fire by smacking Rin over the head with a spatula, Makoto finally solved the puzzle of their rivalry. Having calmed down the cheering crowd in the café, and served them free coffee and dessert for witnessing the unsightly spectacle, Makoto happened upon Haru and Rin in the back alley behind Café Iwatobi, making out furiously.

Gasping for breath and red with the shock of his discovery, Makoto ran backwards, and almost tripped over a small black cat with a teal ribbon tied around its neck.

If it wasn’t for the sturdy arms of Sousuke Yamazaki breaking his fall, Makoto was sure he would have broken his neck.

Still blushing profusely, Makoto thanked Sousuke for catching him, while the teal-eyed man smirked knowingly at him, puffing on a cigarette.

“So you finally figured it out, eh?” Sousuke looked up at the pale sky overhead, exhaling cigarette smoke.

“I-I never…I mean…I should have known, but…Ahh, I mean…How long have you known?” Makoto found himself looking at the way Sousuke smoked, as though he was entranced by the movement of his long, sturdy fingers and his beautifully sculpted forearms.

“Long enough, I guess. They’re not exactly discreet, you know.” Sousuke smirked at Makoto again, this time blowing smoke right into the brunet’s face, making him cough a little.

“Yeah…Well, I guess I’m not that perceptive.” Makoto didn’t know who he was more angry at. Himself for not figuring out such a big part of Haru’s life, or at Haru for keeping him in the dark for so long.

“I don’t think that’s true, Tachibana. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Sousuke’s smrik changed into a smile as he said the words. A warm, beautiful smile. A hand reached out to ruffle Makoto’s hair, and before he could realize what was happening, Sousuke had put out his cigarette and was walking back to Samezuka Sweets, the little black cat in tow.

 

Soon enough, without either of them realizing it, they started taking their breaks at the same time, meeting each other in the small alley behind Café Iwatobi.

“So have you talked to Haru yet? About, you know…” Sousuke’s eyes always looked at the sky, tracing the patterns of clouds, following the white wings of sea birds in flight, reaching for the sun.

“Ahhh…No, not really. I figured, it’s his secret, and if he doesn’t want to tell me, then I’m not going to force it out of him.” The hurt of Haru keeping his relationship from him weighed heavily on Makoto’s heart, though he tried to drown it in his sunflower smile.

“But it’s bothering you.” Sousuke stifled his burning cigarette against the brick wall, and leaned down to have a quick chat with the two cats at his feet. The black one with a teal ribbon around its neck, and the pale ginger colored one wearing a red ribbon, which had taken to accompanying Makoto on his breaks. Both cats were like mascots for their respective shops, and had done nothing but hiss and frown at each other until now.

That had changed ever since Makoto and Sousuke tentatively became friends with each other, and now both felines were cuddled together on the cobbled surface of the alley, meowing contentedly at Sousuke, feasting at the scraps of cold cut meat he fed them.

Makoto didn’t reply to Sousuke’s concern for him, though it lightened his heart considerably.

He bent down next to the raven-haired man, and joined him in petting the cats.

Before they parted ways, Sousuke presented Makoto with a small box bearing the Samezuka Sweets logo.

“New recipe. A chocolate and honey tart. I thought you’d enjoy it.” Sousuke looked like a schoolgirl confessing to her crush as he scratched the back of his head, his cheeks flushed pink, refusing to look directly at Makoto.

“Oh…Th-Thank you, Yamazaki-san.” Makoto accepted the little pink box in with hands, mirroring Sousuke’s blush.

“You can just call me Sousuke you know. Enough with the formalities, Makoto.” Sousuke’s eyes burned with some unknown fire as Makoto gaped at him.

“Right. S-Sousuke. Thank you.” Makoto found himself staring openly at the way Sousuke smiled at him before returning to work.

 

During their next meeting, they exchanged email addresses and phone numbers.

And after that, Sousuke invited Makoto to his apartment, to try out a few new recipes he was working on. And so that Kuro and Caramel could have a playdate together. Any excuse to see each other outside of work, really.

 

So it was that Makoto found himself lounging around on Sousuke’s couch on a Sunday afternoon, sipping at a small blue glass of matcha.

Sousuke was wearing a plain white t-shirt with dark jeans and a simple teal apron, checking the oven and mixing batter.

Makoto felt a little overdressed in his pale green button down shirt and khakis.

_What did he think it was, a date?_

He found himself blushing furiously at the thought of dating Sousuke.

Excusing himself, he ran into the washroom, and leaned over the sink to calm himself down.

 

Maybe this was a bad idea, getting this close to Sousuke.

What would he do if Haru found out about this? Would he consider Makoto a traitor for befriending the enemy?

And then the sight of Haru pinned against the wall took shape in his mind-Haru with his fingers gripping Rin’s ponytail, the lower halves of their bodies gyrating against each other, their tongues visibly entwined together.

Makoto shook it off and tried to banish the impulse of grabbing Haru by the collar and demanding an explanation from his best friend.

However, the image of two men kissing passionately remained branded in his brain.

Only now, the two men were Makoto and Sousuke.

Sousuke’s knee shoved between Makoto’s legs, his tongue inside Makoto’s welcoming mouth, their bodies hotly pushed up together.

 

A strange feeling blossomed inside Makoto chest, and he felt so weak in the knees he almost fell down.

Struggling against the foreign impulses invading his mind and body, Makoto splashed some cold water on his face and returned to the kitchen where Sousuke was waiting for him.

“Are you okay Makoto? You look like you have a fever.” Sousuke’s voice was gentle and concerned, and his hand reached out to touch Makoto lightly on the forearm.

As though struck by a bolt of lightning, Makoto withdrew his arm, leaving Sousuke looking startled and hurt.

“Ahh…No, sorry, I’m fine.” Makoto regretted his action immediately, unable to express himself properly to Sousuke.

“O-Okay. Well, here you go. It’s a flourless chocolate cake, with a hint of lavender, topped with chocolate glaze.” Sousuke proudly presented his beautiful creation to Makoto.

The cake looked sumptuous and lovely all at once, decorated with a single sprig of dried lavender.

Sousuke had the gift to combine taste and sophistication perfectly, which was unmatched even by Haru’s impeccable cooking.

Though Makoto preferred Haru’s entrees, when it came to dessert, no one could top Sousuke.

Happily, trying to forget the indecent thoughts still swirling around in his head, Makoto helped himself to a mouthful of cake.

He smiled blissfully as he ate, and was glad to see the satisfaction on Sousuke’s face.

 

“Ahhh, hold on, you have a little glaze right here…” Sousuke’s thumb reached out for Makoto’s upper lip, slowly sliding across it to wipe the chocolate off.

Instinctively, Makoto’s tongue flicked out at the same time, and somehow Sousuke’s chocolate-covered thumb ended up inside Makoto’s mouth.

Makoto knew he should let go and walk away and never come back, but instead he sucked on Sousuke’s thumb intently, as if it tasted better than the cake.

And Sousuke let him.

The two cats took their chances, and leapt onto the counter to have a taste of the fresh-baked dessert.

Fortunately, Sousuke had enough presence of mind to put it out of their reach just in time with his free hand.

Disappointed, Kuro and Caramel decided to make do with the plain batter Sousuke had put aside to bake a pound cake for Makoto to take home.

 

A few minutes later, Makoto was sprawled on Sousuke’s roomy leather couch, his shirt unbuttoned, the fly of his pants unzipped, with a shirtless Sousuke on top of him.

Their first kiss tasted of cigarettes and chocolate and a little bit of matcha.

Makoto thoroughly humiliated himself by cumming in his underwear a little too quickly, as Sousuke’s hardness rubbed against Makoto’s erection, his tongue moving expertly inside Makoto’s mouth.

And somehow that led to them taking a bath together.

And Makoto spent the night at Sousuke’s, and had to call in sick for work on account of his butt being too sore, faking a cold over the phone to throw Haru off.

Despite Makoto’s insistence, Sousuke took the day off as well, casually telling Rin over the phone that he didn’t feel like coming in for work.

Rin was still shouting at Sousuke when he hung up.

 

Days drifted past them, mesmeric, following each other harmoniously like the verses of a poem memorized in childhood.  Time was measured in delicate cups of bone china filled to the brim with fresh-brewed coffee, in small stoneware tumblers teeming over with streaming matcha, in small chocolate and honey tarts decorated with lavender.

Their nights were mostly spent together, learning each other’s bodies, chanting out hymns of their shared pleasure in hushed voices.

                                                                                                                         

Kuro and Caramel always joined Sousuke and Makoto on their dates, watching over their owners like a pair of benevolent deities.

 

When Haru finally came upon them in the back alley, with Sousuke’s hands up the front of Makoto’s shirt, teasing his nipples expertly, his teeth biting on the brunet’s earlobe, even the combined force of Rei and Nagisa and Rin could not keep him from jumping on Sousuke and giving him a nosebleed.

 


	15. The Fox Child's Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is inspired by one of my favorite animes of all time, Natsume Yuujinchou.  
> It's got a little bit of Japanese folklore in it, and is somewhat bittersweet. I always wanted to write something whimsical and mythical for these two, so here we are.  
> I started this drabble out as something for SASO, but it didn't work out, so I'm leaving it here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G for gross levels of sentimentality.

 

 

 

**_Sometimes, Sousuke dreams about the past._ **

**_On days when the sun shines bright through curtains of late summer rain, and the evening is restless with the songs of departing birds, and at night the moon shines golden-blue in an ink-black sky- Sousuke traces his memory back to a time he cannot quite recall._ **

**_There is a shadowy passage through which no trespassing is allowed._ **

**_A black barrier of forgetting which he cannot get across._ **

**_It haunts his dreaming, and wakes him up shuddering- reaching out a hand for something he knows he can never have._ **

 

 

************

 

 

In the heart of the copse by his grandparents’ house, there is a small clearing.

A stream runs through it, and small blue flowers grow all over it, with ghost-white butterflies fluttering about on shimmering wings.

When Sousuke misses his parents, when his longing for the life he used to have becomes too much to bear, he sneaks out of the house and hides in the clearing.

There is one picture he still has, of his father and mother, smiling happily with a tiny, squealing baby held in both their arms.

That is all he has left of his family.

Things will never return to the way they were.

He knows that.

But that won’t stop the tears from rushing forth.                             

 

**_Oji-chan says to be strong._ **

**_Obaa-san says if Okaasan and Otousan look down from up above, and see me crying, it’ll make them sad._ **

**_But I can hide here and no one will see me._ **

**_I am safe here._ **

Sousuke is only 5 years old, but he already bears the weight of long years of grief on his shoulders. The years ahead will see him alone and struggling against a world that holds no warmth.

In his heart, he prays for someone to help him.

In his heart, he knows he won’t make it on his own.

 

 

************

 

 

The little fox child hides behind an old camphor tree, listening quietly.

His tail twitches nervously, and his ears stand up at every small sound made by the wind rustling through leaves, of butterflies singing to small blue flowers.

By the side of stream that runs through the clearing is a human boy. About the same age as Makoto.

Once again, he’s cried himself to sleep.

It’s been a week since this boy started coming to Makoto’s usual hiding place.

Makoto, who had been praying for a friend, almost leapt with joy at the sight of him.

He was about to run over and introduce himself when he realized that the boy was human.

And fox children were not supposed to be anywhere near human children.

His mother’s cautionary tales ring through Makoto’s ears as he watches the boy run an anxious hand through his raven hair, messing it up.

Makoto peeks at the human carefully from the safety of his hiding place, watching the small boy holding a picture in his hands, weeping as though his heart will break.

Something about it tugs at Makoto’s heart and he finds himself weeping with the sad human boy, quietly sharing his grief.

His heart nags at him, tells him to go up to the boy, to comfort him and hold him and tell him everything will be fine.

But his mother’s voice is a warning bell chiming constantly in his head.

 

**_You must not speak to humans._ **

**_You must not to show yourself to them._ **

**_Our kind has no dealings with theirs anymore._ **

**_Humans live such short lives, and they forget so easily._ **

**_You must never let them think you are anything more than a dream._ **

So Makoto stays hidden.

And the summer passes by quietly, though his heart keeps telling him to break the silence.

 

 

************

 

 

Autumn is in the air.

The copse is almost bare of leaves.

The blue flowers have gone to sleep in the cold earth, and the butterflies are no more than ghosts.

The stream’s flow becomes sluggish and days turn chilly by the time the sun sets.

Too chilly to stay outside after dark.

Sousuke’s gotten much better at hiding his sorrow.

He doesn’t need to come to the clearing as much anymore.

He is too young to know that the more you hold your sadness in, the worse it gets.

So when he breaks down again, he cries so much that the leafless woods shake with the sound of his grief.

He hugs himself close, and prays again.

But he doesn’t know what he’s praying for anymore.

If only there was someone he could talk to…

 

There is rustling in the undergrowth, and a little boy comes out, dressed in a pale green yukata.

On his head, he is wearing a pink wool hat, even though it still isn’t that cold.

Sousuke stops crying and rubs his eyes, gaping at the little boy.

“Who are you?” Sousuke clutches the faded photograph in his hands and quickly shoves it into his pocket.

“I-I’m Makoto. I live nearby. What’s your name?” The little boy has the prettiest eyes Sousuke has ever seen- all sparkling green like the forest in spring.

Sousuke knows he should be wary of the strangeness of this boy, should probably make an excuse and go back home, but he cannot do any of that.

In his heart, there is a strange song. Words which are not quite full of meaning just yet. A melody without any fixed patterns.

“I’m Sousuke.” He tells the little boy his name and takes his little hand in his and they both run off, laughing together, as though they’ve always known each other.

 

 

************

 

 

 

**_Two crowns woven from thin branches, with leaves as red as rubies, shining like the embers of a dying fire._ **

**_Two boys laughing quietly in a bare copse of trees, huddled together._ **

**_Only one of them isn’t really a human boy._ **

**_A pink wool hat sits by the slow-flowing stream, discarded in favor of a ringlet of autumn leaves._ **

**_A pair of twitching fox ears stick out of a mess of brown hair._ **

**_A fluffy fox tail flits out from the back of the yukata he wears, all discretion forgotten amidst the evening’s excitement._ **

**_The human boy looks at the fox child as though he’s stepped into a dream as old as the mountains._ **

**_In soft-spoken childish words, they bind themselves to each other._ **

**_A fading, crumpled picture._ **

**_A little fox carved out of stone._ **

**_Simple treasures exchanged for a foolishly-made vow as the north wind shakes the last of the leaves from the trees- icy cold and bitingly cruel._ **

 

 

************

 

 

“There are no families hereabouts with children your age, Sousuke. Are you sure you didn’t fall asleep by the stream again? You probably found this _friend_ of yours in a dream, eh?” His grandfather lowers his thick-framed glasses to peer carefully at him.

“No. He wasn’t a dream! Makoto is real! He is my friend and he is real!” Sousuke clenches his fists and refuses to touch his dinner.

His grandparents share a look of concern, nodding silently at each other.

“Sometimes, when you’re lonely, you make up friends for yourself. And there’s nothing wrong with that Sousuke.” His grandmother moves her chair closer to his, and gently ruffles his hair.

“He is not imaginary! He is real! Makoto is real! Here! Look!” Sousuke pushes away his grandmother’s hand, and takes something small out of his pocket.

It’s a little grey stone, roughly carved into the shape of a fox cub.

His grandmother asks for his permission before taking it from him and examining it closely.

His grandfather looks a little shaken, but quickly composes himself, scoffs a little, and goes back to his dinner.

“This friend of yours. What does he look like Sousuke?” His grandmother won’t give the little fox back to him. She keeps turning it between her fingers, cautiously, as though she’s handling a cursed object.

“He…He’s got green eyes. He doesn’t go to school because his mother teaches him at home, because his father isn’t with them anymore. That little fox was a gift from his father. Makoto gave it to me for safekeeping. He is a good boy, Obaa-san. He’s my friend.” Sousuke frowns at his grandmother, worried that she’ll tell him to stop playing with Makoto.

“What does he wear Sousuke? What kind of clothes?” His grandmother looks at him with narrowed eyes, leaning closer.

From the corner of his eye, he can see that his grandfather has put his chopsticks down and is listening carefully.

“A-A yukata. It’s green like his eyes. And it’s got a belt with cherry blossoms on it.”

“And?”

“Oh and a pink hat.”

“A hat?”

Sousuke thinks of a pair of ears, covered with rusty-red fur, and bites his tongue

“Yes. Why? What’s wrong with wearing a hat?”

“And he always wears the same clothes? Every time you see him?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you don’t find that a little odd, Sousuke?”

“I-I thought… He’s probably poor. He doesn’t have any shoes either.”

“I see.”

Sousuke is worried now, staring at his grandmother’s look of slight fear.

“Pfft. You are too superstitious for your own good, my dear. The boy has probably concocted an imaginary friend. Don’t worry yourself over it.” Sousuke’s grandfather looks a bit strained, though he tries to sound light-hearted.

“And you are not nearly half as cautious as you should be.” His grandmother shoots his grandfather a look of writhing judgment, and turns her attention back to Sousuke.

“He’s not a bad person, Obaa-san. If you’d met him, you’d know.”

“Let me tell you a story Sousuke. About a time when humans had dealings with gods and demons and fox children. About a boy your age who vanished in the woods forever, following a little trickster fox. He promised his soul away at the price of a trinket, and left his mother weeping and his father broken-hearted, and no one ever saw him again. You must stay away from your little friend. Do you understand, Sousuke?” His grandmother takes him by the shoulders, and shakes him hard.

 Sousuke sees the worry and fear etched on her face, and nods quietly.

She keeps the little fox cub carved out of grey stone.

He doesn’t ask her to return it.

 

 

************

 

Makoto waits and waits and waits, but Sousuke does not come back to him.

Held safely inside the folds of his yukata is a photograph of Sousuke and his parents.

Makoto thinks of their promise and clutches it close.

His mother was right.

Humans are the worst tricksters of all.

They’ll take your words and your heart, and pay you back in broken promises and stories full of lies.

He should never have trusted one of them.

Wiping angry tears from his eyes, Makoto goes back to his den and his worried mother.

Before he returns, he buries the photograph deep under the roots of the old oak tree, wrapped carefully in the belt of his yukata.

The next day, a heavy snow covers the forest ground, and Makoto sleeps a long sleep, forgetting Sousuke.

In the little house by the copse of bare trees, Sousuke sleeps through the snowfall, and when he wakes up, he cannot remember the little boy with green eyes who held his hand, and wiped away his tears, and promised to be with him forever.

 

 

************

 

 

Years pass by, and Sousuke grows older.

The melancholy in his heart spins out like a cobweb, and suffocates his soul.

He is 26 when his grandmother passes away, following her husband who died a couple of years before her.

The little house in a small village surrounded by timeless mountains and ancient woods belongs to Sousuke now.

Reluctantly, he takes the key from a sharp-faced lawyer, and decides to have a look at the house before selling it.

On the train back to the village, he falls asleep and dreams of green eyes.

Outside, rain falls, heavy and grey, marking the summer’s end.

 

 

************

 

 

The little house is dark and smells of mothballs.

Old and tired and past its prime.

The doors stick in their frames, and the stairs creak.

Sousuke turns on the lights, but there is no electricity. Probably a power outage because of the incessant rain.

He stumbles around in the dark and finds a gas lamp and some matches in the kitchen. His grandfather always kept some handy, and Sousuke still remembers where they are.

He smiles fondly of the time he’s spent in this house, of the love his grandparents gave him unquestioningly and abundantly.

But something has always been missing from his life.

 

He falls asleep in his old room, in his too-small bed, without even taking a bath.

He dreams of a clearing and a stream and blue flowers and butterflies with ghost-white wings.

He dreams of a little boy with green eyes.

He dreams of a promise.

A promise he broke.

 

When he wakes up, it’s still raining.

By the side of his bed is an old, crumpled photograph smelling of damp earth. And a little fox cub carved out of old, grey stone.

As he looks at the two objects, he remembers.

Memory washes over him like a flood.

His hands shake and his eyes sting with tears he cannot hold back.

Like a hunted animal, he runs to the clearing, soaked to his skin in the later summer rain.

 

 

************

 

 

There is nothing there anymore but the stream and the dying trees.

No more flowers, no more butterflies.

No one named Makoto with beautiful green eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, Makoto. I didn’t want to forget you, but I did. I’m sorry…” He falls to his knees and lets himself drown in the grief he’s been storing up for years and years.

 

The rain slackens and the clouds break to let the sun in.

_A sunshower._

_Kitsune no yomeiri._

Sousuke remember his grandmother’s voice telling him about the old myth.

_When the sun shines through the rain, it means a fox is getting married._

He remembers laughing at the absurdity of the old stories.

Stories and dreams and memories.

Everything whirls around in his head, waking him from a long sleep.

 

**_Promise me, Sousuke. That we’ll be together forever. That you’ll always be my friend._ **

**_I promise._ **

**_Always?_ **

**_  
Yes, Makoto. Always._ **

 

Sousuke isn’t the least bit surprised when a beautiful young man in a pearly white silk kimono walks towards him, and kneels down on the cold ground before him.

His green eyes sparkle like the forest in spring.

He takes both Sousuke’s hands in his and smiles at him.

“I knew you’d come back to me one day, Sousuke.”

Sousuke lifts up his head and takes Makoto in his arms.

Cautiously, Sousuke kisses Makoto, making sure this isn’t another dream- a vision he’ll fail to remember in the waking.

“I never wanted to forget you. I’m sorry, Makoto. I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t have let you forget me, Sousuke. I wouldn’t let you forget our promise.”

“To be with each other, always.”

“Yes. Always.”

A second kiss and then a third seals the pact between them, binding them to each other once more.

_A human and a fox._

_A promise broken and fixed._

_A memory returning from a dream, becoming reality once more._

 

************

 

****

**_In the little house in the little village- forgotten by time, and lost to dreams and old tales of hidden creatures- two lovers sleep side by side._ **

**_Their fingers twined with each other’s, their faces lit up with smiles, dreaming up new stories for a new life._ **

**_Together._**

 

 

 


	16. Sousuke Getting Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for SASO 2015, based on a prompt about Sousuke's awful sense of direction (which I definitely have in common with him).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G. Sorry no smut in this one.

So it was right at the udon shop with the kitsune statue outside it.

And another right at the convenience store with the rilakkuma display in its window.

And a left at the intersection with the huge ass tree (Rin didn’t know what kind of tree it was) growing by the traffic signal.

And another left into Sousuke being totally lost.

 

_He’s volunteering at the cat shelter right by there, Sousuke._

_You can’t miss it!_

_Got get ‘im!_

Sousuke angrily mimics Rin’s words, giving up on the chase altogether. There is no cat shelter in sight which can be the possible workplace of a certain green-eyed boy. A certain Tachibana-kun that Sousuke cannot stop thinking about since getting to know him a little better at that ridiculous water gun battle they all undertook at Samezuka Academy a month ago.

 

Sousuke really wants to see Makoto. But calling Rin and admitting that he got lost is going to result in endless humiliation.

The crappy ass directions written on pink paper with a sakura petal motif all over it are totally useless. Sousuke curses Rin and his ridiculous taste in stationery and crumples up the paper, tossing it behind his shoulder in a fit of rage.

“Ouch!” The voice is soft and trying its best not to sound angry for being targeted by a ball of sakura-patterned paper.

Sousuke turns around, a little bewildered and already guilty at his indiscretion, only to find himself staring at Makoto.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…” Sousuke curses his luck. If there was one person he’d have liked to avoid hitting with useless directions, it was this green-eyed angel.

“No, no it’s okay. You didn’t do it on purpose so…” Before Sousuke can do anything about it, Makoto picks up the crumpled paper and carefully unfolds it.

Sousuke can only stare at Makoto- semi-horrified, fixed in one spot, watching Makoto’s face turn from confusion to understanding to blushing furiously.

 

Because of course, Rin titled the directions with: ** _The Way to Sousuke’s Green-Eyed Angel of Love and Kittens._**

And all over the paper, he’s doodled crap like Sousuke and Makoto’s stick figures making out, clearly labelled with names, because Rin is really bad at drawing.

The words ‘ _Ganbare, Sou!_ ’ are written at the end, along with Rin’s awful attempt at drawing a winky cat emoji.

“Errrr. I- I can explain…” Despite being embarrassed out of his mind, Sousuke cannot help but admire how pretty Makoto looks when his cheeks turn all pink and stuff. Like a sakura petal.

 _Stupid Rin and his stupid sakura obsession._ Now he’s gone and infected Sousuke with it.

“Actually, the shelter’s just around the corner, so you were pretty close, Sousuke.” Makoto is still clutching the humiliating piece of paper in his hand.

“Ahhh. Yes, well I was going to ask someone for directions. Someone who isn’t Rin.” Sousuke wonders if that’s a smile starting to blossom across Makoto’s lips.

Makoto laughs lightly, and pockets the piece of paper without batting an eyelash.

“There’s a café down the street. They have really good chocolate cake. Would you like to join me, Sousuke?”

 

As he walks beside Makoto, trying to prevent himself from hyperventilating, Sousuke makes a mental note to buy Rin that stupid shark plushie keychain he’s been eyeing as a thank you gift.

 


	17. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very rough, and much shorter, version of this drabble was written for SASO 2015. I wasn't very happy with how it turned out. so I ended up editing and expanding it a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E for, well you know, bara-banging.  
> Mind you, this one has some rough sex and a bit of name-calling in it, so if you're not down with that, don't read it.

The parcel from Australia is sitting on the table, opened and unwrapped.

Since Haru and Rin moved there with their twin boys, they have developed a habit of sending everyone gifts at least twice a year. But instead of sending them separately to everyone, it somehow became Sousuke’s duty to receive and then locally distribute everyone’s share, and save Rin and Haru extra shipping costs.

Usually, Sousuke groans and moans endlessly about this task. 

This year is different though.

Because this year, it gives him the perfect excuse to drop in on Makoto personally, see how he’s doing- maybe rekindle an old passion. Or something like that.

He and Makoto dated for a bit back after they finished high school.

Makoto went to Tokyo to attend university soon after, while Sousuke stayed in Iwatobi.

It wasn’t like they didn’t get along or anything like that. In fact, Sousuke fondly remembers that their bodies were especially compatible. Every time they met, they ended up fucking like rabbits. Makoto was quite insatiable, actually.

Maybe that’s what was wrong with their relationship.

That all did when they met up once or twice a month was fuck each other senseless.

 

The breakup was mutual.

They were both young back then, and confident that time and distance would take care of the heartache of the end of first love.

And for a while it was fine. They both moved on quickly, and started dating other people.

Hell, Sousuke even showed up at Makoto’s wedding (which was held in Iwatobi) with a proper present and everything. Smiled the whole time, only got a tiny bit drunk, and went home with one of Makoto’s university friends- you know, to show him around town and get a closer look at that tight Tokyo ass.

It took Sousuke a few years without Makoto to realize that he wanted it all back. That no one else would ever do if they weren't Makoto.

But it was too late by then.

Makoto had an adorable daughter with his pretty wife a year after their marriage. This time, Sousuke just sent a card and a pre-packaged gift full of generic pink shit you’re supposed to get for little girls for some inexplicable reason. What if the kid in question hated pink? Sousuke thought babies got a rough deal of it, unable to voice their opinions and such.

 

It wasn’t that Sousuke didn’t feel happy for Makoto.

Actually, no, that was exactly it.

Sousuke wanted Makoto back. But he couldn’t have him anymore.

Makoto had a family now. Trying to steal him away from his wife and daughter would be despicable.

And so Sousuke stayed away, minded his own business, tried to hold on to a few steady relationships, failed magnificently at every single one of them, and carried on pining away after Makoto.

 

Until about 4 months ago. When he found out about Makoto’s divorce being finalized from Rin.

After Rin and Haru moved to Australia, Sousuke rarely saw anyone else from his school days. Definitely not Makoto, who’d stayed in Tokyo after getting married.

But now Makoto was divorced, and he’d come back home, trying to put his life back together.

Sousuke felt awful about it, but he was ecstatic to hear that Makoto was single again.

And so Sousuke decided that instead of mailing Makoto’s share of the Australian parcel, he would deliver it himself, and get a chance to see Makoto in person.

Because showing up at Makoto’s door with a sign around his neck saying “ _please allow me to fuck you again_ ” would be a bit much.

 

Sousuke checks his reflection in the mirror for the tenth time.

Hair gelled back, but not too stiff.

Dark jeans with a simple black t-shirt and a heather gray cardigan on top.

Effortlessly classy. If  hours of agonizing over the perfect “ _please fall in love with me again Makoto_ ” look could be called effortless.

He gives his mirror an enthusiastic thumbs-up, picks up the stuff meant for Makoto and his kid, and is on his way.

 

It’s Makoto’s little daughter who answers the door, with Makoto running after her, too late to stop her from opening the door without checking who’s outside.

He stops in his tracks when he sees Sousuke, unable to even offer a simple greeting at first.

“Who are you?” The little girl is around 4 years old and has Makoto’s eyes- green and sparkling.

“I’m Sousuke Yamazaki. A friend of your father’s. I brought some presents for you that Rin and Haru sent over.” Sousuke offers the child what he thinks is his best smile.

“From Haru-chan??” Apparently Nanase’s name does the trick, and the girl stares intently at the bag Sousuke is holding.

“Yup. Straight from Australia!” Sousuke starts to sweat nervously as two identical pairs of green eyes stare him down in unanimous silence.

“Ahhh. Well, we weren’t expecting you. I thought we’d get it in the mail as usual.” Makoto grabs a hold of his daughter, who is inching closer and closer to the gift bag Sousuke is holding, ready to wrest it from his grasp.

Sousuke laughs, and hands it over to her. She immediately runs off with it, and upends it on the carpet in the living room, carefully going through all the presents her favorite Haru-chan has sent for her.

“Hana, please don’t get carried away. And don’t make a mess.” Makoto reprimands his precocious child lightly before turning his attention back to Sousuke.

“You look good Makoto.” And Sousuke means it. Despite the fact  that it’s been 5 years since they last saw each other, Makoto hasn’t aged a day.

He’s got the same rumpled up hair, the same glasses, the same plaid shirt casually thrown on with jeans, and the same smile as when they were both 18.

“So do you.” Makoto raises an appreciative eyebrow, taking in Sousuke from head to toe.

Sousuke finds himself blushing under the intense green-eyed gaze.

“Well, you know. I try.” Sousuke laughs awkwardly, waiting to be invited in, but Makoto blocks the doorway.

There is a brief, awkward pause, during which both men try not to think about all the times they’ve had sex with each other.

“Are you going to invite me in, or should I just go back?” Sousuke balls up and takes a chance. Better this than walking away without trying. At the least, he’s going to leave with Makoto’s number and email address.

“I…Errr…I’d love to… But, ummm…Actually, Hana and I were just about to go grocery shopping for our dinner.”

Despite the nervousness, Sousuke can tell Makoto isn’t just making up a lie to get rid of him. It looks like Makoto is actually disappointed about not being able to invite Sousuke in.

“You were gonna cook? By yourself?” Sousuke laughs, remembering the mini-explosion that destroyed half his kitchen last time Makoto tried to cook for him.

“Well, fine. We were going to have dinner at the ramen place around the corner.” Makoto grins sheepishly, remembering the same incident.

“You know, I’m a pretty good cook. So how about I make dinner for you two tonight.” Sousuke grins, eyes all lit up.

Makoto seems taken aback at first, but quickly agrees to the proposition.

 

 

Half an hour later, Makoto, Hana, and Sousuke are at the supermarket, with Hana sitting in the shopping cart, holding on to a kitten plushie newly arrived from Australia.

Sousuke and Makoto fall into an old sense of familiarity, laughing and talking together.

While they’re in the vegetable section, selecting peppers for the curry Sousuke is going to cook for them, they run into Makoto’s old swimming coach, Sasabe-san.

After spending a considerable time gushing over Hana-chan, he turns his attention to Sousuke.

“I remember you! Yamazaki, was it? So you two ended up together eh? And with a little daughter too! She takes after Makoto, if I do say so myself. But good for you. Our Tachibana-kun is quite a catch, isn’t he?” Sasabe-san winks at Sousuke, smiling happily.

“Ahhh…Ummm…Actually…” Sousuke doesn’t really feel like correcting Sasabe-san.

It would be perfect, really. To be with Makoto like this. To shop together for dinner every night. To cook for Makoto and little Hana. To eat with them instead of by himself in his lonely little apartment. To listen quietly while Makoto reads a bedtime story for Hana before tucking her in. To go to bed with Makoto afterwards….

“Thank you, Sasabe-san. You should come over for dinner sometime. We’d love to have you over, wouldn’t we sweetheart?” Makoto places a hand on Sousuke’s shoulder, smiling sweetly, turning his ex-coach’s misunderstanding into temporary reality.

“Uhhh…Yeah… Definitely…” Sousuke almost jumps when he feels Makoto’s hand slide down from his shoulder, and cup his ass, squeezing it a little.

 

After Sasabe-san takes his leave, Sousuke barely has time to react to the groping he’s just been treated to, when Hana spots a box of instant chocolate pudding, escapes from the shopping card, and makes a fuss about buying it for dessert.

Sousuke tugs it out of her hands gently, and offers to make her chocolate pudding from scratch instead. She observes him quietly for a few seconds, and her face breaks out in a smile.

Goddamn this family is going to ruin Sousuke with these blindingly bright, angelic smiles.

“Can you make chocolate cake too?” She inquires, looking very hopeful.

“Yes I can. Is that what you want?” Sousuke picks her up and places her back in the cart, sharing a laughing glance with Makoto.

“Mhm. Coz Papa-chan can only make instant pudding. So when we want proper cake we have to go to a bakery. But eating out is not good for you, Papa-chan says. Even though we do it all the time.” Hana wraps up her speech, a little out of breath.

Sousuke laughs at Makoto’s embarrassed expression, and picks out the ingredients he needs to bake a chocolate cake from scratch. He remembers learning to bake it for Makoto’s birthday, back when they were still dating. He wonders if Makoto will agree to eat it off him again, and smirks devilishly at the recollection.

 

On the way back, Sousuke gives an over-excited Hana a lift on his shoulders, while she sings a made-up about chocolate cakes and dancing kittens. Makoto carries the groceries in one hand, and holds on to Hana with the other.

Sousuke wonders if he’ll be allowed to join this adorable two-person family on a permanent basis, and quietly says a little prayer in his heart to make it so.

 

After they return to Makoto’s apartment, Sousuke carefully removes his very expensive cardigan, and puts on the Hello Kitty apron Makoto hands over to him.

Sousuke makes beef curry with boiled rice-simple and not too spicy- and serves it anxiously, waiting for Makoto and Hana’s approval.

They both eat quietly at first, gulping down mouthfuls of curry and rice. When they ask for seconds, and then thirds, their faces lit up with contentment, Sousuke breathes a sigh of relief, and finally eats his own portion.

Afterwards, Hana gets eager about the chocolate cake, but Makoto points at the clock, and marches her off to bed.

“But what about my cake, Sou-chan?” She appeals to Sousuke with her big sparkling eyes, ready to spill forth tears at a moment’s notice.

“How about if I come over tomorrow, and we can bake it then? If your Papa-chan is okay with it, that is.” Sousuke looks over at Makoto, hoping for the best.

“Yes, that’s perfectly fine. Now off to bed with you, you little demon.” Makoto shakes his head at both Sousuke and Hana.

 

 

After tucking her in, Makoto returns to Sousuke in the living room.

He takes out a few cans of cheap beers, and before long, they’re both drinking together, reminiscing about the old days.

Sousuke wonders when it would be the right time to make his move, to show his real intentions to Makoto without scaring him off.

But Makoto beats him to it.

At first, it’s just a firm hand on Sousuke's thigh, massaging it, reaching closer and closer to his crotch.

When Sousuke uncrosses his legs to give Makoto better access, Makoto becomes more confident. Soon, he’s tracing the outline of Sousuke’s growing bulge, talking about the last time they were in bed together.

Sousuke lets Makoto do what he pleases, waiting for the opportune moment to pounce and take control.

“You know why I got divorced?” Makoto is a little drunk by this time, his hand still wandering all over Sousuke’s crotch.

“I was wondering about that.” Sousuke’s arm reaches around Makoto’s waist, lifting up the hem of his shirt a little to touch the bare skin underneath.

Makoto gasps at the contact, and moves closer to Sousuke. He’s basically moved on from lightly caressing Sousuke’s cock through his jeans, to giving him a clothed handjob.

“Because I couldn’t get by without having a cock up my ass. And in my mouth.” Makoto giggles a little, enjoying Sousuke’s attempts to hold back his voice.

“And was that what you told your wife when you asked her for a divorce?” Sousuke suddenly pushes Makoto’s hand away, before he spoils his clothes by cumming in them.

“She knew I liked men too. She always did. We even tried the pegging thing you know. She wore a dildo and fucked me. But it wasn't enough. I realized then that it wasn’t just any cock I wanted. It was yours, Sousuke. I wanted you back.” Makoto’s eyes look glazed and hungry as he reaches for Sousuke’s crotch again, having confessed his secret.

“I see.” Sousuke gulps, his brain going haywire after receiving this information from Makoto.

“Can we go to my bedroom now?” Makoto stands up, wobbling a little.

Sousuke can only follow, mesmerized, eager, his bulge throbbing against his jeans.

 

 

After pushing Sousuke onto the bed, Makoto strips down completely, and sits down on the floor of his bedroom between Sousuke’e legs.  

He unzips Sousuke’s jeans, and pulls them down, along with his black boxers.

Sousuke had almost forgotten how good Makoto is at giving blowjobs. He takes his time, sucking on the head of Sousuke’s cock at first, as if it’s a lollipop. Then he runs his tongue underneath, slurping up the pre-cum that’s leaking from the slit, licking Sousuke’s balls, pausing now and then to smack his lips.

“Mmmmm. I missed your taste, Sousuke.” Makoto maintains eye contact while taking Sousuke’s cock back into his mouth, his head bobbing up and down.

Sousuke grips the bedsheets with his fingers, biting his lips to make sure he doesn’t shout out with pleasure.

He cums without a warning, and Makoto almost chokes, but he wipes the cum away from his face, smiling as he licks it from his lips.

“I guess I don’t have the same gag reflex as I used to.” Makoto stands up in front of Sousuke, his cock hard and dripping.

“God, Makoto, you’re so fucking good at this. Your mouth feels so good.” Sousuke wants more though, and he grabs Makoto’s arm, pulling him close.

Makoto straddles Sousuke’s right knee, and comes in for a kiss.

Their first kiss in 7 years.

It’s sloppy and drunken and tastes like beer and curry.

But it gets Sousuke hard as a rock again.

 

 

Before long, Makoto’s face is buried in a pillow to stop the moaning, and Sousuke is pumping his cock inside Makoto’s tight, lube-slicked asshole. Makoto always stocks up on lube, seeing as he uses it regularly while pleasuring himself at night, with a huge vibrating dildo roughly the size of Sousuke’s dick shoved inside his opening.  

Sousuke doesn’t even need to pump Makoto’s hardness to get him to cum. He’s so cock-starved that he doesn’t seem to need any help at all. Sousuke lets go of restraint, grabs Makoto’s hips and really grinds his cock into Makoto, burying it in his ass right to the hilt.

Makoto’s eyes tear up from the effort of trying to stay quiet while being fucked in such an intense way.

Sousuke pulls out briefly before ramming himself into Makoto once again, making Makoto cum, making him collapse. Sousuke has to hold Makoto’s wrists back to keep his cock from slipping out of him.

When he's just about to ready to orgasm, Sousuke pulls out again, and turns Makoto around.

Makoto falls onto his back as Sousuke sits on his chest, and shoves his cock back into Makoto’s mouth.

“Come on. Suck it dry this time. If you spill a single drop, I’ll turn you over in my lap and spank you. Is that what you want, you cock-hungry slut?” Sousuke whispers as he grips Makoto’s hair and starts fucking his face.

After he cums inside Makoto’s mouth,  Sousuke climbs off his chest and collapses in bed next to him.

“The spanking thing? Was that a promise?” Makoto rolls onto his stomach, looking over at Sousuke.

“You’re still into that then?” Sousuke remembers the first time they had sex this way. How Makoto asked to be called a slut, asked to be spanked, asked for Sousuke to handle him roughly. Sousuke remembers how badly they both blushed at the time, taking it slowly, learning how best to please each other.

Makoto laughs by his side, and kisses him again. He stands with a little effort, and cleans them both up, using a copious amount of tissues. Sousuke pulls on his t-shirt and boxers before going to sleep, while Makoto puts on his pajamas.

It’s understood between them that Sousuke will stay over for the night.

After all, he still has to bake a chocolate cake for his newfound family.

 

 


	18. How You Caught the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of my SASO drabbles that I will be sharing, and I think this is my personal favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G

Before you know it, you’re all caught up.

Swirling sakura petals in spring, luxuriant sunflowers in summer, defiantly colorful bellflowers in autumn, and pristine hothouse chrysanthemums in winter. He seems to be surrounded by the blossoming beauty of the earth wherever he goes, whatever the season.

And you look at him with longing in your eyes and an ache in your heart.

You find excuses to buy him sakura-flavored candies in early spring, and his smile almost kills you with its brightness- and its sheer indifference towards you.

In the summer you gather sunflowers in a huge green basket and you pretend to have run into him while biking around town. And you insist that he take the flowers, and what a great help it’d be if he did. And you know it’s all lies. You know all you could think of were his eyes when you were picking the best blossoms from your backyard. He smiles again, and you think the sun shines simply to light up his face, and make his green eyes sparkle like jewels in his gentle, beautiful face.

You pretend to reluctantly join your friends for a hike in the mountains when the leaves start turning to orange and yellow and all the shades in between. But your heart leaps with excitement and you cannot sleep the night before, because you know he will be there too. He picks a blue bellflower for his best friend, and smiles for him in a way he never smiles at you. And it breaks your heart. But you would rather be near him than be with anyone else. When his friend drops the flower unknowingly on the way home, you bend down quietly, pretending to tie your shoelace, and carefully tuck away the flower in the innermost pocket of your jacket. You still have that flower, faded and almost falling apart, tucked away among the pages of your favorite book of poems.

After the first snow falls, you catch a cold from staying up all night to stare at the glassy stars in a deep indigo sky. You dream of a universe where you are the only one his eyes could see, and he smiles only for you. In a fever dream, you think he came to see you, and brought you a few white flowers tied with a ribbon the same color as his eyes. You think you saw him stay by your side for hours on end. Just him, and no one else. Looking concerned for you, and not merely obliged to visit you for the sake of some pointless social custom.  When the fever breaks and you can see clearly again, you see four white chrysanthemums sitting in a glass on your bedside table. It takes all your courage to ask your mother if he was the one who left them behind. When you text him a simple note of thanks, he replies almost immediately, and you end up calling him, and you talk about the most inconsequential things late into the night.

As the year turns back into spring, sakura trees slowly awaken from their long sleep, waiting for the right time to put forth their pink blooms. He has so many admirers that you cannot even bring yourself  to count the boxes of chocolate you stupidly offer to help him carry home, after you see him struggling along by himself on the way back from school. But the way he thanks you and invites you in, his cheeks a little pink from the effort of carrying piles and piles of sweets, makes up for the agony of wondering how many girls and boys have probably confessed their love to him already. Your own little packet of sakura sweets seems stupidly inconsequential in front of the imported boxes of Belgian chocolates some of his classmates have gotten for him.

Before you mumble some stupid words about how much he means to you, running nervous fingers through unkempt hair, he cheerfully leads you to his room and offers you tea.

And you sip at it awkwardly, and wonder how you made it even this far with him.

You think you’d be happy to have him smile at you for the rest of your life, lighting it up like the silvery glow of a full moon on a clear night, its perfect face reflected in the still mirror of the ocean, eclipsing all the stars with its glowing splendor, sending the sweetest dreams into the smiling hearts of night-blooming flowers.

Bur your heart nags at you and whispers in a biting voice: _it’s not enough._

So you think to yourself, _it’s do or die now my lad_ , and you pull out the crumpled packet of little pink flower-shaped sweets from your pocket, and you offer them up to him- a lowly sacrifice to such a perfect deity.

He looks at you- startled, baffled, blushing.

The moment is everlasting- a million flowers blossom and die as you wait, and the moon turns in its path for a hundred years and one. You begin to understand what eternity would feel like. You begin to understand how even forever wouldn’t be enough.

And then he takes your offering from your trembling hands, and his fingers brush lightly against yours, and you both go all red in the face, like roses in summer.

You stay with him until the moon is shining in the sky.

You stay with him until he falls asleep next to you, head dropping carelessly on your aching shoulder, tired after playing video games with you.

You stay with him the next morning, laughing about your first impromptu sleepover at his house, knowing there will be more.

You stay with him for months first, then years, and before you know it, you’ve lived a whole life by his side.

It’s a wonder, you tell yourself, old and grey, sitting next to him still, how he manages to shine so brightly even after all this time.

You think you’ve managed to catch the moon by sheer luck, and trapped it in a lantern to light your way through this dreary world.

You know yourself for a thief, but you would bear any punishment for the crime you’ve committed.

And you know- oh how perfectly and surely you know- that you would steal the moon again even if you lived this life a second time. Or a third. Or a thousand times more.


	19. Heart and Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Mila, who wanted some SouMako fluff.  
> I ended up writing something completely domestic and fluffy, dealing with anxiety and homesickness. Smut didn't feel right for this, so there isn't any. (But I'm working a on pure smut drabble, which I should be able to post soon).

Snow falls to the ground, drifting in the still air- a tumbling, dancing descent.

Makoto sighs and peers out of the fogged-up window, unable to sleep.

It’s 6 am on a Sunday, the sun just risen, the blanched morning sky hued with its golden glow.

He marks the graceful fall of a snowflake reflected in the glass windowpane with the tip of his index finger, leaving a clear tracery on the blurred surface.

He thinks of Iwatobi in the spring- of sakura petals, of the concealed blue depths of the ocean, the chorus of cats that used to mew in Haru’s backyard early in the morning, waking him up every time he slept over.

He knows it’s stupid and pointless, but he can’t help himself.

Makoto has always been a homebody, and being away from his little paradise and the warmth of his family for so long has taken its toll on him.

Not that he isn’t happy here in this overcrowded, overwhelming city.

But even after spending 5 years in Tokyo, Makoto still isn’t used to its bustling presence. It makes him feel insignificant and lost. It makes him feel a little useless, his existence devoid of any real meaning.

His years in university were spent running between his apartment and the campus, always sleep-deprived and freaking out over deadlines. And then finding a job right after graduating. Working as a medic for his university’s swim team meant that he rarely got time to himself at all. Nagisa evenly joking told him that he’d made looking after other people into his livelihood. Which was so _Mako-chan_ of him. But the cheerful words only increased Makoto’s anxieties. He felt like his own identity, his sense of home, was left behind in his little house by the ocean.

 

The years have flown right past him, and Makoto feels like he hasn’t gotten a chance to get used to Tokyo at all, to get in sync with its hectic pace. He never really went out, never experienced the city, and never felt like it was a place where he belonged. His life only made sense to him in the context of Iwatobi. Out here, he was swimming in open water, with unpredictability and the unknown awaiting him at every corner.

 

But then there is the man sleeping soundly next to him in their cramped little bed, spread out on his broad back. Too cramped for the two of them at least, being as tall as they are. When Makoto looks at the little sleepy furrows between Sousuke’s brows, frowning even while he’s dreaming, he cannot help but smile.

On Makoto’s request, the bed has been pushed up against the large rectangular window, looking out at the stacks of tall glass buildings interspersed with patches of grey winter sky, so he can wake up to the sun rising above the cityscape.

The truth is, he feels secure here, nestled between the window on one side, and Sousuke on the other. This feeling of intimate warmth is as close to home as he can get in Tokyo.

 

 

As Makoto tries to turn off the memories of Iwatobi projected on the screen of his mind like an old black and white film, Sousuke stirs beside him. Groaning, still very much asleep, he turns over to face Makoto and throws out an arm, blindly searching for him.

Sousuke’s frown deepens when he is unable to wrap his arm around Makoto’s waist, and his teal eyes flicker open, reflecting a mixture of confusion and grumpiness.

Sousuke rubs his eyes and sits up in bed gazing quietly at Makoto’s profile. His boyfriend looks like he stayed up all night again. Dark circles under his eyes, skin pale as death, and no sign of the tousled bedhead Sousuke has come to love so much.

“Trouble sleeping again?” Sousuke stretches his arms out in a luxurious yawn before throwing them around Makoto’s shoulders, hugging him close.

“Mmmmm. It’s nothing really. I’m just…I just feel a little homesick, I guess.” Makoto drops his head against Sousuke’s chest, enjoying being cuddled.

“It’s _not_ nothing, Makoto. This is the third night you haven’t slept properly. Look at those eyes. So bloodshot. And you look so pale.” Sousuke turns Makoto’s face to his, placing a thumb under Makoto’s chin, examining his boyfriend closely.

“Cut it out, Sou. I’m not a baby.” Giggling a little, Makoto moves in for a good morning kiss.

Sousuke’s lips immediately part to let in Makoto’s tongue. The moment of quiet intimacy breaks unexpectedly as Makoto yawns right into Sousuke’s mouth.

The two of them collapse on the bed, Makoto sprawling on Sousuke’s chest, laughing together, foreheads bumping against each other as their bodies shake with uncontrolled mirth.

 

“You, my Makoto, need to sleep.” Sousuke finally lifts himself up, making Makoto roll off him and onto his back in their bed.

“Ugghh. It’s no use Sou. Even if I try, I’ll end up staring at the ceiling for hours. Let’s just go out today. I can tire myself out running around the city with you, and sleep soundly at night.” Makoto pouts at Sousuke rebelliously.

“We tried that before, remember. And it didn’t work. You fell asleep on the train, and I had to drag you all the way home. People thought I was making off with a drunken angel. I was lucky no one called the police and charged me with kidnapping. And you woke up at 4 in the damn morning anyway.” Sousuke waves his hands around, retelling the story for the 20th time, embellishing the details to add more drama to it.

Makoto laughs and finds himself yawning again in the middle of it.

“That settles it. You stay right here. I’m going to make sure you get some sleep.” Sousuke leaps out of bed, making his way towards the washroom to perform his morning ablutions.

Makoto sighs and crosses his arms against his chest, closing his eyes tightly against the piercing white light shining through the window. The falling snow amplifies the brightness of the sun, and Makoto feels like he’s being blinded by it.

He thinks of Iwatobi in the winter, and the igloo he made together with Haru when they were both tiny toddlers constantly worrying their parents with their antics. A sad little smile graces his beautiful features as he reminds himself to call Haru and make sure his best friend is looking after himself properly.

 

 

Haru and competitive swimming didn’t gel together that well after all. There was that brief time of triumph, sharing the gold with Rin when the two of them represented Japan in the Olympics. But that seemed to have been enough for the reclusive, free-spirited young man.

Haru returned to Iwatobi right afterwards, and took up painting and calligraphy.

Fortunately he was so talented that he easily, but unwittingly, turned his art into a career. He took his time with his creations, but once Makoto and Nagisa talked him into signing a contract with a respectable agent, Haru started making enough by selling his paintings to sustain him for decades.

It brought Makoto a deep sense of peace that Haru finally found a life that brought him comfort and joy. Though Rin still showed up at Haru’s house once every few months, and tried to drag him back into swimming. The only result of those efforts was that several of Rin’s portraits, depicting the redhead in various states of anger and agitation, graced the walls of Haru’s studio.

 

Makoto often wondered what it would be like to feel perfectly content with life.

It had been a long time since he felt like the work he was doing really mattered, and that his life held the same sort of meaning and ideality that he believed in when he was younger.

Sousuke was working as a sports journalist for a national newspaper, and enjoyed his job fully. The rest of their friends also seemed happy and settled, and it made Makoto feel guilty about his own anxieties and dissatisfactions. But try as he might, he couldn’t lay his finger on what was bothering him.

 

 

While Makoto’s head spins into a daze at these depressing thoughts, Sousuke rushes back into the room, face washed, hair combed, holding a cup of steaming tea and a plate with some toast on it.

“Chamomile tea, and toast with maple butter. And no complaints.” Sousuke places a finger against Makoto’s lips, shushing any protests before they get a chance to escape.

“Did you put honey in it?” Makoto eyes the cup of yellowish-amber liquid suspiciously, holding it under his nose to sniff at it.

“Yes I did. So drink it up, or I’ll have to pinch your nose for you, and make you swallow it all down in one go.” Sousuke lightly tweaks the tip of Makoto’s nose, proving his willingness to make good on his threat.

Makoto smiles and sips at his tea, letting Sousuke sit behind him in bed to cuddle him.

 

The most comfortable Makoto feels is when he’s close like this with Sousuke. When they first started dating, Sousuke wasn’t very good with physical intimacy. He liked to have his own space and often rebuffed Makoto’s constant need for hugging and cuddling.

But when it resulted in a rift between the two of them, Makoto noticed Sousuke making an effort to close the gap before it was too late. Above all, Sousuke feared losing Makoto, and the latter could sense it in the way Sousuke started clinging to him all of sudden.

And before they knew it, their dynamic had changed, so that it was Sousuke who initiated most of their physical intimacy. He even made sure that the bathtub in their first little apartment was big enough to hold them both. He sat down in it and made Makoto join him to see how well they fit in together, how much room it allowed for certain movements. Which left both Makoto and the real estate agent blushing.

 

Makoto sips the tea (which tastes overwhelmingly like honey and not much like chamomile at all) and lets himself relax as Sousuke’s hands lift his sweatshirt and caress the bare skin underneath.  One of the things he loves about Sousuke is how his hands always feel warm, and how familiar they are with every inch of Makoto’s body by now.

Sousuke’s fingers know which spots to touch to elicit the wanted reaction from Makoto. Sometimes, a stray fingertip will gently slide against the slight curve of Makoto’s hip, sending electric currents through his being, making him utterly obedient to Sousuke’s desire. And on days like today, the palms of Sousuke’s hands will rub gentle circles on Makoto’s stomach, calming his anxiety and helping him relax.

Makoto finishes his tea and toast, and demands a kiss as his reward. Sousuke obliges by placing a soft-lipped smooch on his forehead, and another on the tip of his nose, before lazily kissing Makoto’s mouth.

“Mmmm, sweet.” Sousuke smacks his lips as he draws away.

Usually a kiss of this kind would leave them both wanting more. But today, everything about Sousuke is full of tenderness which is more maternal in nature than suited to a lover.

It makes Makoto feel at ease with the world and with himself.

 

“Okay, now it’s time for bed.” Sousuke untangles their bodies and pulls the shutters down against daylight streaming through the window. From their linen closet, he pulls out a large black bedsheet and hangs it over the drawn shutters, to make sure that the room is nice and dark.

Makoto finds himself being tucked into bed, head resting against fluffy pillows which smell like him and Sousuke, wrapped up into at least 3 soft blankets (he usually sleeps in 2, while Sousuke thinks even 1 is too much, preferring the warmth of Makoto’s blanket-wrapped form instead).

 

Sousuke runs out of the room again and Makoto can hear him scrimmaging in the kitchen. He returns with a small ceramic dish of some sort, and a small plastic package of stubby little pale purple sticks. Makoto frowns at him at he struggles with the strange little items. Sousuke extracts a lighter from his pocket, and lights one of the little mauve sticks, after placing it carefully in a notch in the ceramic dish.  As wisps of white smoke waft up from the burning tip of the stick, a soft, medicinally floral scent suddenly trickles into the room. It washes over Makoto’s senses and he feels drowsy as it slowly drifts up his nose, gently tracing shadows of pleasant dreams in his sleepy mind.

“Lavender incense.” Sousuke announces proudly, clearly happy with the way Makoto has shut his eyes, exhaling slowly.

“Mmmm. It’s nice, Sou.” Makoto opens his eyes briefly to enjoy his boyfriend’s pleased look.

“And now, the finishing touch.” Sousuke procures a CD from their bedside table, and waves it in front of Makoto’s face.

There is a tiny, neat inscription on it.

Makoto instantly recognizes it as being Haru’s handwriting.

The kanji reads: **_Sounds of Iwatobi- for Makoto_**.

 

Makoto suddenly feels overwhelmed with gratitude and love for his best friend as well as his boyfriend. At the same time, a new wave of guilt and self-reproach washes over him. He has no right to feel so depressed and dissatisfied when he is loved so much, so completely.

Unbidden tears sparkle in his eyes as he squeezes them shut, not wanting Sousuke to see him this way.

Sousuke is busy setting up the CD player and speakers, inserting the CD. Soon, the whispery sounds of the ocean flutter through the room, interspersed with distant cries of seabirds. Haru must have taken the recorder out to the beach at dawn, when no one else was around, to do this for Makoto.

The mental image of Haru sitting by the ocean on his own, with the sun rising above Iwatobi, does nothing to stop Makoto’s tears from flowing.

Wordlessly, Sousuke kisses his forehead, and slips into bed next to him.

Makoto feels his waist secured in Sousuke’s arms, and cries soundlessly against his lover’s chest. Sousuke keeps making soothing noises into Makoto’s hair, lifting up his sweatshirt again, gently stroking the small of Makoto’s back.

Held close, held tight, Makoto cries himself to sleep in Sousuke’s embrace.

 

In his dream, the world is a whirlpool of snowflakes drifting down to the ground.

Sky and earth all white and pure.

Makoto cannot tell where he is at all, but he recognizes the little igloo standing out in the drifting whiteness, even though it should be pretty much invisible.

He bounds towards it, and a longing for home overcomes his heart, making him stumble as he runs.

Inside, there is a soft yellow glow.

Makoto crawls in through the narrow doorway, and finds himself inside the little apartment in Tokyo he shares with Sousuke.

It smells like butter and vanilla and chocolate. It smells the way home should smell.

Sousuke stands beside the oven, humming something indistinctly to himself, removing a large whale-shaped chocolate cake from within.

He turns around to see Makoto, and smiles at him like a full moon rising above the ocean in Iwatobi.

 ** _Welcome home, Makoto._** Sousuke holds out his arms, beckoning him.

 ** _I’m home._** Makoto runs towards him, and feels his body encircled in unquestioning love, and unrelenting kindness.

His dream is laced with the scent of freshly fallen snow, chocolate, and Sousuke.

 

In his sleep, Makoto Tachibana smiles.

His eyes are swollen from crying, and his face stained with tears.

But the smile is overpowering and beautiful and full of the purest joy.

In his sleep, Makoto Tachibana knows he is already home.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon that Sousuke is a complete domestic goddess and loves keeping the house neat and clean. His aesthetic is minimal and clean, compared to Makoto's chaotic clutter and affinity for cute things. Also, Sousuke likes shopping at MUJI (which is where he got the incense he used in this drabble from).  
> Also, I was never happy with the way Haru's story concluded in Eternal Summer, so I added my own headcanon about his future in this drabble for some reason.  
> The chamomile tea, lavender scent, sounds of the ocean, and snowy day aesthetic are Mila's brainchildren, as well as Sousuke working as a sports journalist.


	20. Golden Sun, Silver Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I started this a while ago, after I read some unsavory remarks about my son Makoto somewhere. This was supposed to be a short ode to Makoto's beautiful smile, but I kind of got busy with irl stuff and never finished it. I picked it up again tonight, and it turned into a SouMako thing. So here it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for cutesie kissing.  
> The timeline for this is a little while before Makoto decides to go to Tokyo and tells Haru about it. Based on the headcanon that Makoto and Sousuke were sneaking behind Kyoani's backs the whole time during Eternal Summer, being all lovey dovey.

_“Why does he have to smile all the time? It’s a little creepy.”_

_“I wouldn’t say creepy exactly, more like, off-putting? Like what’s he got to be so happy about?”_

_“Maybe he’s on some sort of medication?”_

_“Maybe he’s just too stupid to do anything other than grin all day.”_

_“He probably does it to make up for Nanase frowning all the time.”_

 

It’s a random conversation, smattered with ugly laughter, whispered a little too loudly-loud enough for him to hear as he walks past a group of his classmates.

His shoulders slump a little, and his smile flickers like a damaged lightbulb. But it stays in place.

After walking a few paces, wanting the earth to open up and swallow him whole, he straightens his back again and makes his way to the rooftop.

Haru is home with a cold, caught while skinny dipping in the ocean last week, which Haru insisted on doing even though it’s still spring and the air is rather chilly.

Nagisa, Rei, and Gou are busy with some club-related activities. He thinks about going to help them, but something inside his chest clenches painfully, and he cannot entirely trust himself.

So Makoto sits alone on the school’s rooftop during his lunch break, playing with his food, unable to eat anything.

 

It really shouldn’t bother him this much. It’s not like this is the first time he has heard something passingly cruel like this about his demeanour. When he was younger, he never understood the harshness in the words of others. He grew up surrounded by love and warmth. Being kind to others, looking after their needs, was always a part of his nature.

He was never too bright, and definitely not brave enough to stand up for himself, even if he’d known the malicious intentions behind such comments.

He feels like he should run down the stairs and confront his classmates. He wants to yell at them, to tell them to take back their words. He wants to scream and punch a hole through the classroom wall.

But the temptation to indulge in an outburst recedes as quickly as it overtakes him.

He sighs and leans back against the wall, exhausted from unspent anger and frustration. Within the span of a few moments, it feels like a storm has ravaged his mind and body, and left him reeling.

He turns his attention back to his lunch, and smiles unwittingly at the loving care his mother has put into his food.

It’s a momentary peace though, and a new surge of anxiety soon threatens to drag him under.

 

Why _does_ he have to smile all the time…

The words of his classmates still sting, and he bites his lower lip to make himself stop.

He quickly finishes his lunch, not wanting his mother to worry about an unfinished bento box, and too conscientious to waste perfectly good food.

He eats too quickly and when he gets up to go back to class, a sudden wave of nausea makes him waver. He tries to balance himself against the wall, but his hand slips, and he falls to the ground.

He stands up wincing, his eyes drowning in tears which aren’t really from the stinging pain in his right knee, which has gotten slightly scraped. Brimming with anger at his own weakness, he wipes his eyes with his sleeve, and staggers to class after dusting off his uniform.

Until the school day is over, he keeps his head down, trying to keep the echoes of malicious voices resonating in his head from bursting out of his skill and tearing his defences apart.

By himself, he feels weak and pointless. He thinks he exists only in reference to other people. That on his own, he might as well disappear.

He hands shake uncontrollably as he tries to focus on his teacher’s droning voice, trying to hold the pen steady in his fingers. But it’s no use, and after a few minutes he gives up. The pen falls to floor with a clatter, making heads turn questioningly in his direction. He feels like his bones are made of glass, and his head is full of smoke, choking his thoughts. Among the pairs of eyes observing him coldly, aloofly, he recognizes a few pairs, cold with undue spite. He cannot tell if this feeling of being looked down on is merely a product of his own distrustful mind, fraught with self-loathing and suspicion, distorting his perception.

Then someone snickers, and every wall he has ever built around himself comes crashing down to the floor.

The sobs he tries to stifle escape him in the most unseemly manner, and his chest heaves visibly with the violence of them.

All he can do is grab his bag and rush out of the classroom, leaving his teacher and most of his classmates utterly perplexed.

 

He already knows what they’ll be thinking. That he can’t make it a single day on his own, without Haruka around to tether him, to give his existence purpose.

Banishing all thought of the next morning, when he will inevitably have to face everyone after his breakdown, he runs towards his house. But he realizes that he cannot go home just yet. Not with his eyes red and stinging, his face pale as death. He’ll worry his mother, his siblings, arriving home from school a little too early in such a pathetic state.

Without thinking, his feet trace the familiar path leading to Haruka’s, while his mind is swirling with doubt and anger and pointless guilt.

 

 

He is halfway up the stone steps leading to his best friend’s house when he almost stumbles over a blur of white fur.

Before he can fall on his face and smash his nose, a sturdy arm catches him around the waist, steadying him.

“Watch it Tachibana, or you’ll break your neck over a cat.” The voice sounds surly but concerned. And rather familiar.

His face turned to the side to hide his slightly swollen eyes, Makoto stands up to thank his savior.

Sousuke’s arm remains around his waist, helping him on his feet.

“Th-Thanks, Yamazaki-kun.” He barely gets the garbled words out, his voice cracking on the syllables of Sousuke’s family name.

“Just Sousuke is fine. Don’t make me say it every time.” The pair of teal eyes narrow as they take in Makoto’s agitated state, and Sousuke’s hand lightly caresses the small of Makoto’s back, before he withdraws his arm.

“Ahh, right. Sorry.” Makoto tries to smile at Sousuke, but he just cannot bring himself to do it.

There is something in the way Sousuke is looking at him, something in the way his arm felt against Makoto’s back, holding him together, that brings down the final wall of Makoto’s defences.

Tears flow freely as he bends his head and slumps his shoulders, unable to hide himself away from that intense gaze anymore.

 

Makoto feels immensely relieved, when instead of asking him awkward questions or running off, Sousuke gently takes him by the elbow and leads him down the stairs, shielding him from curious eyes.

About 5 minutes later, they’re sitting on a park bench hidden behind a cluster of trees. In the distance, the ocean glistens golden in the sun.

 

Makoto and Sousuke sit side by side in silence, listening to the elated shouts of elementary school children playing in the sandlot, and the gentle lulling sound of waves crashing on the shore.

Makoto’s body is wracked with a series of quiet sobs. He reaches his arms around himself, trying to contain the burgeoning breakdown within him.

As he rocks back and forth, clutching himself, he feels Sousuke’s hand on his back once more, rubbing it in soothing circles. The touch calms Makoto, and after a few minutes of physical contact, he is able to even out his breathing.

 

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this.” Makoto looks out at the horizon, where the sky blurs unrecognizably with the water. He wishes Sousuke will keep touching him. Sousuke’s hand on his back feels like the only real thing in the world. He feels himself inexplicably drawing strength from the warmth of its touch.

“Don’t worry about it. To be honest, before today I thought the only human emotion you could display was smiling.” Sousuke smirks at him lightheartedly, not realizing the stabbing pain Makoto feels cutting through his heart at the sound of these words.

Makoto’s body starts shaking all over again, and his eyes spill over with held-back tears.

 

Sousuke looks completely startled at this turn of events. It takes him a few minutes to calm Makoto down enough to tell him what happened.

Surprisingly, unexpectedly, Makoto finds himself confiding in Sousuke in a way he has never talked to anyone before.

He and Haru can read each other so well, there’s never been any need for words between them. But Makoto is beginning to understand now that things aren’t so simple anymore, as they’ve grown older. There are always some things that need to be said- secrets that remain hidden, festering inside the heart, until words give them shape.

Talking to Sousuke, having his arm back around his waist, Makoto feels like this is something he has been quietly craving for years, without knowing what it was, or why he needed it.

 

Sousuke listens to Makoto rambling on and on in a comfortable, meditative silence. He doesn’t even nod as Makoto spills out his doubts, his fears, his self-hatred, his uncertainties- and lays them all bare before a boy he barely knows.

Sousuke feels like listening is enough. That Makoto has been holding on this hurt for so long that letting it all out is enough of a cure. It feels perfectly natural when Sousuke pulls him closer, so that Makoto’s head is resting lightly against his shoulder.

 

“By the way, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” When Makoto calms down again, he realizes how absurd their encounter is.

“Didn’t feel like it.” Sousuke grunts the response almost inaudibly.

“You shouldn’t skip school.” Makoto pouts at Sousuke, trying to look reprimanding.

This draws an unexpected laugh from the usually quiet boy. Makoto finds himself gaping at the way Sousuke’s face relaxes and transforms when he laughs. Like it’s lit up from within, a silvery shimmer shining through his teal eyes. Makoto feels himself going slightly red in the face, his skin heating up for no obvious reason at all.

“You’re one to talk, you know.” Sousuke’s laugh turns into an amused smile. Makoto finds himself continuing to stare.

“You should do that more.” The words are out before Makoto can stop them.

“Eh? Do what more?” Sousuke’s forehead crinkles, his smile fading.

“Nothing, forget it.” Makoto feels his heart pick up its pace, threatening to beat right out of his ribcage.

“You mean I should laugh more?” Sousuke looks at Makoto carefully, his lips curling wryly, but not really smiling.

Makoto looks away, the tips of his ears burning like the sky at sunset, and mumbles an affirmation.

“I don’t have the guts to smile when I don’t really feel like it, that’s why.” Sousuke takes a deep breath, continuing to observe Makoto closely.

Makoto looks perplexed by this response, and raises his eyebrows questioningly at Sousuke.

“It takes a lot of strength and patience to smile when you don’t feel like it. To carry on the way you do, no matter how you feel inside, because you don’t want to worry those who care for you. Because you want to be their support, their anchor, instead of having them fussing over you. Nanase would be lost without you, you know.” Sousuke finally looks away from Makoto, sighing wistfully at the expanse of the ocean.

“B-but I’m just meddlesome and I have no sense of personal space. I’m always treading on people’s toes.” Makoto feels weirdly comfortable with Sousuke. He has never been listened to in this way before, and he feels a little spoiled.

“That’s not true, Makoto. I wish…I wish I could have done half as much for my friends as you do for yours, just by being there.”

 

Makoto has always been good with words, but for once in his life he doesn’t know what to say. He feels the ache in Sousuke’s words rip through him in an almost physical manner. It makes his heart shrink and his blood freeze a little bit.

 

Some strange instinct takes over Makoto then, and his limbs abandon the restraints of his reason.

He finds his fingers running through Sousuke’s dark hair, edging closer to him on the bench, until their thighs are touching.

For a minute, Sousuke freezes in place, quietly looking at Makoto.

When it happens, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Sousuke’s fingers gently tangling in Makoto’s hair, as his tongue traces the outline of Makoto’s lower lip, its darting movement warm and slick, turning Makoto’s blood to slush.  Makoto’s lips part of their own accord, letting Sousuke in. It’s a little clumsy, and their teeth clash more than once, but the budding desire heating up both their bodies sweeps them up. Both Sousuke’s arms lightly wrap around Makoto’s waist, and Makoto clings to the back of Sousuke’s Samezuka jacket as if his life depends on it.

 

It’s also strange how little awkwardness there is between them afterwards. Though Makoto’s eyes are still swollen and rimmed with red, his smile returns- unabashed, unforced, and golden like the purest sunlight on a perfect spring day.

Sousuke is dazzled by its beauty all over again, having always admired it from a distance before now. Up close, Makoto’s smile threatens to overpower his senses, and make him fall to his knees in devout worship.

They talk about nothing in particular as Makoto walks Sousuke back to the train station, as Sousuke is rather unsure about Iwatobi’s layout.

Before they part, they exchange email addresses.

 

“You should take care of yourself, Sousuke. And smile more.” Makoto shyly places the whisper of a kiss at the corner of Sousuke’s mouth as they say goodbye to each other.

“Same to you, Makoto. And if you feel like crying again, come find me. I rather enjoyed comforting you today.” Sousuke laughs at the way Makoto blushes, and pats his head awkwardly, making Makoto blush even more.

 

On his way back to Samezuka, going through about 100 messages from Rin- ranging from anger to distress and back to anger- Sousuke thinks about the boy he’s kissed by the ocean today.

It feels like fate, as if something invisible is binding them together, drawing them to each other. He wonders when he’ll get to taste Makoto again, sit close to him, listen to him speak in secrets, share his heart with Sousuke.

He feels like that if he can only rest his head in Makoto’s lap for a while, all his worries will vanish into thin air, and the pain in his shoulder will dissipate into nothingness.

With steady, calm fingers he types out a message.

Within a few seconds, he has a response, complete with a smiling cat emoji.

 

He smiles to himself, thinking of the days ahead.

The night sky glitters with stars as he navigates his way back to Samezuka Academy with a little help from his phone.

For once, his feet feel steady and his mind is sure of itself.

 

Sousuke falls asleep in his cramped dorm bed, trying to ignore Rin’s pointed remarks about “ _thought you’d been run over, or walked all the way to Hokkaido_ ”. He dreams of swimming in a vast emerald ocean, shot through with golden light. He feels no pain, drifting through the water as though flying through the air. He smiles in his sleep, feeling truly happy again for the first time in years.

In a cozy bed, his head slightly aching, Makoto dreams of a swimming pool. Its water is bluish-green- almost teal- and transparent, so he can see straight through to the bottom. Above him, the moon shines with a silvery light. No dark horrors lurk within the water, and his heart is unafraid, completely at peace with itself. His sleeping face lights up with the most honest smile he has smiled in years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another headcanon of mine that I've shared in this drabble is that Makoto's smile is like sunlight- bright and innocent and nourishing. And Sousuke's smile is like moonlight- mysterious, inviting, and seductive.


	21. White, Yellow, Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Day 1 of SouMako week, based on the 'laguage of flowers' prompt. Unfortunately rl stuff prevented me from writing anything else during that week. I forgot to post it here until now. 
> 
> The angst levels are high for this one, though the rating is probably PG? 
> 
> It was inspired by the character of Suzuha who makes an appearance in Noragami Aragoto and left a very strong impression on me. This drabble is pure angst, so don't proceed if you want a happy ending.

The only thing he remembers from the time before is a host of asters- bunches of purple swaying in the wind, and the distant laughter of other children.

 

 _Shion_ , a woman’s warm voice tells him,  _for remembrance_.

 

He doesn’t think this misplaced memory from a life that was never really his should make him cry, but it does. 

Every single time.

 

The dark-haired boy with sea-bound eyes, teal and sparkling in the spring sun, sits with his back to the willow tree. He has been working all morning, and his throat prickles, asking for water.

He is 15 years old, and his only real memories are of flowers- short-lived and beautiful.

Sousuke Yamazaki doesn’t see the little boy until he is standing right before him.

He looks like he is about 7 years old, and rather lost, though his sparkling green eyes display anything but distress.

Sousuke stares at the small child in green overalls, wondering how any human being can possibly look so ethereally beautiful and innocent.

Sousuke finds himself smiling at the little boy, holding out a hand for him to grab onto, without really thinking why.

The little boy blushes pink all over, and resembles a little rosebud in early spring. 

Slowly, carefully his little fingers touch Sousuke’s thin ones, covered with dirt from a morning’s worth of gardening.

“Are you lost?” Sousuke wonders aloud. 

“L-lost? I don’t think so, onii-chan. I just wanted to see the flowers up close. Are they yours?” The child’s speech is surprisingly composed, though he is red in the face from trying to overcome his natural shyness.

“Not really. I don’t think flowers truly belong to anyone. I just help them grow. Would like to take a few home with you? I’m sure they won’t mind.” Sousuke stands up, and takes the little boy’s hand firmly in his own, walking closer to the array of white camellias swaying in the breeze.

“Really?? I can take some home with me? Are you sure it won’t hurt them, onii-chan?”

“Not if you’re the one who plucks them. I think they like you.”

The little boy carefully picks out 6 white flowers, pauses to think for a second, and then plucks a seventh.

Without a word, he goes red all over again, and offers the seventh flower to Sousuke.

The little boy with pretty green eyes runs off laughing, and Sousuke thinks he’s just met an angel.

He clutches the flower to his chest.

 

 _White is for waiting,_  a distant voice echoes in his head.

 

There is no reason for Sousuke to cry, but he does.

 

                                                        ******

 

Time is elusive and illusory.

Sousuke stands amidst a field of camellias the color of distilled sunshine.

The loneliness is easy to get used to when he is busy with his flowers.

He wipes the sweat off his brow, and leans against the willow tree, tracing patterns of clouds in the sky with his clear teal eyes.

He hears their tinkling laughter before he sees them.

Two small children, a boy and a girl, wearing matching outfits, rush into Sousuke’s view.

Twins by the looks of it.

 

“Hurry onii-chan! You’re too slow!”

It’s the pristine green of those eyes that Sousuke recognizes.

The boy looks about 15 or 16, same age as Sousuke, but a little taller.

This time it’s Sousuke who goes red all over, fumbling with the hem of his shirt, twisting his fingers in the blue fabric.

 

“Oooooh, look at the pretty flowers! Can we pick some for mom and dad? Can we? Can we, Mako nii-chan?” The little girl jumps up and down with excitement, while the little boy touches the yellow petals with careful fingers.

“We would have to ask permission first, Ran.” The twins’ older brother looks around until his eyes find Sousuke.

And he flashes the brightest, most beautiful smile Sousuke has ever seen.

Sousuke thinks he will burn and dissipate from the heat of it.

“Hi, are these your flowers?” The green-eyed boy comes closer, looking at Sousuke questioningly.

“Errr…Not really. I just help them grow, is all.” Sousuke finds himself gaping at the other boy, wondering how strange the universe is, to have brought them back together again, surrounded by yellow camellias.

 

 _Yellow is for longing,_  his memory echoes disjointedly in his head.

 

“Do you think we could have a few of these?” He is as beautiful now as he was 8 years ago.

 

_An angel._

_An angel to save me,_ Sousuke thinks, and blushes again. 

 

Over the next few hours, Sousuke learns that the green-eyed boy is called Makoto, that his aunt lives nearby, and he and his family visit her every once in a while.

The twins busy themselves with heaps of plucked flowers, making crowns for all four of them to wear.

Sousuke thinks this is what happiness must feel like.

Makoto smiles a lot, and doesn’t ask too many questions.

He does not seem to remember the last time they met.

And why should he?

It’s been years and years since then.

Makoto leaves with the setting sun, promising to return.

Sousuke rips apart his crown of yellow flowers with both hands.

This time, he knows exactly what his tears are for.

 

                                                              ******

 

The dying summer is alight with red blossoms.

All around him, their heavy heads droop and fall, ready to return to the earth, and sleep the winter through.

Sousuke doesn’t hear the footfall, doesn’t see the tall man until his shoulder is softly patted for attention.

Every day of the last 5 years, he has longed for and feared this moment.

Makoto is much taller now, and older. 

But the blazing green eyes are the same as ever, and so is his smile.

 

 _Are these your flowers_ , he asks.

And Sousuke can only nod, trying his best not to scream out loud.

 

_15 years old still._

_15 years old for as long as he can remember._

 

And Makoto’s life has slipped right past him, flourishing and advancing.

 

_Time is a fraud, time is a cheap trinket._

 

Makoto picks out a few flowers, red as blood, red as the setting sun, red as the end of all things.

 

_Red is for love, and dying with grace._

 

The voice is hollow, and belongs to a different life.

What good is it to him now?

 

As Sousuke watches Makoto leave, finally and for the last time, there is a red camellia tucked carefully behind his left ear.

The touch of Makoto’s careful fingers still burns against his skin.

 

With the night and the darkness and the haunted moon in the starless sky, Sousuke knows it is time to leave.

Finally, and for the last time.

He has as long as the flowers- red as blood, red as life, red as death.

No more tears.

No more regret.

He thinks of a pair of green eyes.

He remembers a smile as bright as the summer sun.

A good memory.

The only one he needs anymore.

Carefully, deliberately, he takes the flower from behind his ear, and strips the petals off one by one.

 

_Red is for love, and dying with grace._


	22. Birthday Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for Makoto and Sousuke's shenanigans.  
> This one is for Makoto's birthday, of course. A bit longer than usual, and something of an AU.

The city is wrapped in a shroud of persistent rain, veiled in fog. The wind sings of winter as Makoto Tachibana makes his way down the narrow pavement, juggling a tray containing two cups of coffee, a shopping bag full of groceries, and an umbrella (clear, marked with a green forest pattern). He sighs, exhausted and utterly done for, as his hood flies off his head, surrendering to a sudden gust of wind. He knows that trying to pull it on again will end in disaster and spilled coffee, so he hurries his pace, though he knows his destination will offer little comfort.

This job was supposed to be simple. Just doing little things around the office, taking care that manuscripts were delivered from the on time, and other little tasks of that sort. Then how did things become this way? When exactly did Makoto end up as Sousuke Yamazaki’s personal maid, fetching his coffee and cigarettes, cleaning up after him, doing his laundry, making sure he got up on time, got enough to eat, didn’t drink too much and pass out on the couch and catch a cold and miss his deadline? If Makoto could do a decent job cooking, he might as well be getting paid for looking after Sousuke around the clock.

Makoto often had to sleep over at Sousuke’s apartment, just to make sure Sousuke doesn’t keel over and die when left on his own. Makoto has heard from other interns and assistant editors that they often have to run errands for the authors they’re in charge of. But when Nagisa- an overly enthusiastic assistant editor from the manga department- found out that Makoto was supposed to look after the prestigious novelist Sousuke Yamazaki, his face fell. He patted Makoto on the shoulder sympathetically before walking away, as though he was saying his last farewell.

But Makoto is only 22, and he knows very well that an opportunity like this will not come his way again. If he wants to gain a real foothold in the editing and publishing game, he has to bear with whatever Sousuke throws his way. Only two more months left until this shitty job comes to an end, and Makoto can start as an assistant editor working on illustrated storybooks, helping create stories that bring smiles to children’s faces, like he’s always wanted.

Just two more months of washing mountains of dirty dishes and doing grocery shopping during rainstorms and washing another man’s underwear and making sure Sousuke didn’t drink so much beer that he ends up knocking on his neighbour’s door, buck naked, demanding to know why Sakura and Tomoyo didn’t end up together in _Cardcaptor Sakura_ because he ships them oh so much, bringing Sousuke back home, undressing him and putting him to bed…

I mean, it isn’t exactly that big of a deal, looking after Sousuke’s needs. The man is supposed to be a literary genius after all, a prodigy of sorts, 30 years old with 5 published books already under his belt. Makoto only ever read Sousuke’s collection of short stories back in university, because it was assigned as required reading for a modern literature course. At that time, Makoto had thought the stories were a bit vague, emanating a peripheral sort of sadness, complex and wrapped up in symbols, the meaning of them deeply coded in twisted words. He remembers feeling cold and lonely after reading them, wondering what sort of mind had dreamed them up. 

Of course the last thing he expected was a foul-mouthed, chain-smoking, dark haired man- who would be rather handsome in fact, if he only stopped scowling- who threw rolled-up dirty socks at Makoto if he was given the wrong amount of sugar in his coffee.

It was all rather naïve of Makoto of course, to expect someone dressed immaculately around the clock, collecting stamps or doing something else equally innocuous and respectable for a hobby. Still, Sousuke did not live up to the image of what Makoto thought a successful novelist should be. But as far as Makoto could tell, Sousuke-san’s only hobby (apart from smoking and drinking bitter coffee with only a quarter teaspoon of sugar- no more, no less) was napping in random places all over his messy apartment.

Though despite all the roughness, there was a secret sort of warmth to Sousuke that drew Makoto in. Like the novelist’s insistence that they skip formalities and address each other by their first names from the start. That had put Makoto at ease from start. And for every rolled-up sock Sousuke flung at his face, Makoto felt free to smack the back of his head lightly when Sousuke was being stubborn about his writing.

And the work itself is all fine, really. Nothing out of the ordinary that Makoto can’t handle, having grown up looking after two much younger siblings.

The problem is something else entirely.

And even now, Makoto feels his cheeks burning against the chilly rain as he remembers.

 

The whole thing started about a month ago.

Waiting for Sousuke to finish the draft for a new short story, Makoto fell asleep on the couch. He’d fallen asleep there before too, but usually it was after he’d put a drunk or tired out Sousuke in his own bed.

But that night, when Makoto fell asleep, Sousuke was still awake, a cup of coffee going cold by his elbow, furiously typing away on his laptop.

Makoto had woken up in the morning, feeling strangely well-rested, but uncomfortably warm. As soon as he shook sleep from his eyes, he realized what the weight pressing down on him was.

Sousuke was fast asleep on top of him, shirtless- and yes, pantsless too- wearing nothing but his boxers, draped all over Makoto’s body like a human blanket, snoring away contentedly.

Makoto should have pushed him off, and run out of the apartment, and asked for a different job, any job, right away. He still doesn’t quite understand why he didn’t do just that. Why he stayed on the couch instead, without waking up the sleeping man, and ran his fingers through Sousuke’s tangled hair, watching his sleeping face relax into a rare smile. He has no idea why his heart throbbed at the sight of it. Why he wanted more.

Sousuke had woken up soon after that, sliding off Makoto with a “Thanks, Makoto. You’re almost as good as my mattress”, and retreating into the washroom with a smirk.

And then it had become a habit.

A habit that Makoto is fully enabling by spending 3 or 4 nights at Sousuke’s apartment, without having any real reason to do so.

From the couch, they moved to the bed, but despite having more room, Makoto would still wake up with a boxers-clad Sousuke asleep on his chest.

But that is all there is to it.

Sleeping together. Quite literally, just that.

Nothing more, nothing less.

 

As Makoto pushes his way into the apartment- which is messy as always, however many times he cleans it- he wonders once again whether he wants something more out of this strange relationship.

But his reverie is broken by Sousuke booming faux-anger.

“What took you so long? Uggh you’re dripping all over my floor like a wet dog!” Sousuke unburdens Makoto of his shopping, looking a little bit concerned at Makoto’s pale, flushed skin, and hair so wet that it’s plastered to his forehead.

Makoto puts away his umbrella, and almost falls on his face while struggling with his shoes.

“Careful, Makoto. Don’t break your neck in my apartment. Who’ll clean up the mess once you’re dead?”

Makoto laughs weakly at the morbid joke, removing his jacket and his hoodie, stepping into the living room.

His teeth are chattering visibly, and he is conscious of his plaid shirt sticking to his skin, outlining the nubs on his chest, which are so hard from the cold that they hurt.

He looks up to apologize to Sousuke about not being able to find his preferred brand of cigarettes, when he catches the other man staring.

But Sousuke quickly looks away, his cheeks turning a little pink, as he goes into the kitchen to put away the groceries. Makoto can hear him complaining about the coffee, hears him pouring both cups down the drain, and opening cabinets instead.

He returns with a little glass full of dark amber liquid, and hands it to Makoto.

“Here, drink this. You need to warm up your blood.” Sousuke’s face is back to its usual grumpy expression as he watches Makoto drink down the whiskey.

“Thanks. I really needed that.” Makoto smiles, feeling the warmth travel with his blood, and spread through his body.

“And now off to the bath with you. Or you’ll catch pneumonia in these wet clothes.” Sousuke grabs Makoto’s forearm and practically drags him into the washroom.

He runs the bath, filling it with hot water and some sort of lavender-y bubble bath.

Makoto stands in the middle of the washroom, shivering in his wet clothes, too shy to start undressing while Sousuke is still there.

Sousuke turns around to look at Makoto, and his grump turns into a smirk.

“What? Too shy to get naked in front of me? I’m not gonna eat you up, so hurry up and take your clothes off.”  Sousuke crosses his arms in front of his chest, enjoying the look of discomfort on Makoto’s face.

With trembling fingers, and a hazy mind which has no idea why he’s doing exactly as he’s told, Makoto wriggles out of his jeans. It feels like years pass by while he unbuttons his shirt. It’s only when he’s standing with his hands covering his hard nipples that Makoto remembers his underwear….

Of course, of course, he’s wearing the stupid boxers with little frolicking kittens printed all over them. And yes, the boxers are most certainly pink and most certainly sticking to him, making the outline of his, uhm family jewels, very prominent.

“Are you planning on getting in the bath with those delightful boxers still on, Makoto?” Sousuke’s smirk widens as he moves closer to him- a bit too close, and a little too quickly.

Before Makoto can stutter a response, Sousuke’s fingers are playing with the hem of his boxers, pulling them down without any hesitation.

Makoto yelps and jumps away, covering himself with both hands, leaving his chest exposed to Sousuke’s intense gaze.

A part of Makoto wants to run away as fast as he can, naked or not.

But another part, a much more convincing part, urges him to stay.

So he does.

 

“Go on, sit on the stool and I’ll wash your hair while you soap up.” Sousuke pulls his own t-shirt over his head, and approaches Makoto with a bottle of shampoo.

Feeling unsure, Makoto grabs a bar of mint-scented soap, turns his back to the other man, and plops down on the blue bath stool. Sousuke grabs a second stool, and sits behind Makoto, fiddling with the shampoo bottle.

Makoto tries to ignore the possibilities this particular situation can lead to, but his mind is already leaping to unseemly conclusions, fuelled by the alcohol in his system, even though he’s barely had half a glass.

He focuses on the soap, running it all over himself, lathering up, trying to ignore the fact that he is in Sousuke’s bathroom, completely naked, and not at all alone.

But when long, steady fingers start shampooing his hair, gently but firmly, Makoto can no longer pretend.

At Sousuke’s touch, an electric current surges under Makoto’s skin, traveling all the way down to the core of his being.

He makes a whimpering sound, a lot like a kicked puppy, as he realizes that his body has betrayed him. Fortunately, he has lathered himself up so much that when he squeezes his thighs together, he can make his hard-on less prominent.

And then Sousuke upends warm water on his head, washing away the shampoo, and the soap lather. Makoto jolts at the suddenness of it, and his knees come apart, exposing his hardness.

He tries to rise, but a pair of firm hands on his shoulders prevents him from doing so.

“Well, well. I didn’t think a bit of shampooing could be this exciting, eh Makoto?” The low, gravelly voice is dangerously close to his ear, warm breath brushing against his skin.

“I…Uhh…It’s nothing…If you go out…I can…I’ll take care of it…So…Uhh…Ahhhnnn…”  Makoto’s words give way to an uncontrolled moan as Sousuke’s hands travel down his body, caressing the sides of his torso, pushing his thighs apart.

“Nonsense. You do so much for me. Let me repay the favor and take care of this for you.” Sousuke’s fingers feel so good that Makoto’s mind starts humming indistinctly, stars dance in front of his eyes, and his body catches fire.

Makoto has never felt like this before. He’s had a couple of boyfriends in the past, and gone all the way with them, but nothing has ever felt this good.

Feeling his mind drift away from him, Makoto sighs and leans back against Sousuke’s chest. He moans out the other man’s name as Sousuke starts playing with Makoto’s nipples, flicking them one by one with his free hand, nibbling on Makoto’s left earlobe.

“You’re a naught boy, aren’t you? Is this turning you on so much? Look how much you’re leaking.” Sousuke’s words weave a spell on Makoto, who is already light-headed from pleasure.

He cums all over Sousuke’s fingers- the same fingers that type up such heartbreaking words- breathing heavily, wanting more.

But Sousuke gets up immediately, wipes his hands rather nonchalantly on a tissue before washing them, throws his t-shirt back on, and walks out, leaving Makoto on his own.

Barely able to think straight, Makoto struggles to his feet, and stumbles into the bathtub. As he soaks in the hot water, the reality of his situation becomes clear to him. He goes red all the way to his ears, wondering whether he should quit this job or if Sousuke will request a different assistant after what has happened between them.

He clambers out of the bath, more confused than ever, and decides that the best course of action is to pretend none of this ever happened, and get out of the apartment as soon as politely possible. He’s sure Sousuke is thinking along the same lines.

Of course, once he’s dried himself with the clean towel left for him by the tub, he realizes that his clothes are in the washing machine.Going red with the realization of what he has to do next, Makoto wraps the towel around his waist and steps into the living room.

Sousuke is in the kitchen, busy with the stove, and the whole apartment is brimming full of a delicious smell.

Makoto suddenly becomes aware of how hungry he is, and his stomach grumbles rather loudly.

Sousuke turns around with a grin, and takes off his apron.

“Sorry. Dinner will be ready soon. I’ll fetch you some clothes.” He rushes off into his bedroom, not really looking at Makoto.

So they’re both pretending that what just happened in the washroom did not happen at all. Makoto feels disappoint creeping into his heart, taking him unawares, and his chest tightens with a sharp pain.

 

Sousuke returns a few moments later, and hands him a grey sweatpants, an oversized navy t-shirt, along with a pair of black boxers.

“Uhh sorry I didn’t have any new ones lying around, but these are definitely washed. I mean, you did the laundry last week, and folded them up and put them in my drawer and all, so. It should be fine, right?” Sousuke’s voice reverberates with a softness Makoto has never heard in it before.

He nods, retreats to the washroom and gets dressed. It’s true the boxers are clean and smelling of detergent, as are the sweats, but the t-shirt has definitely been worn. It smells of cigarettes and cologne and Sousuke. Makoto can’t help but lift the fabric close to his nose, inhaling the scent before putting the t-shirt on, blushing harder than ever.

 

If there was any doubt before, there is none left now.

Makoto Tachibana is deeply and inescapably in love with Sousuke Yamazaki.

 

The revelation hits him like a poisoned dart, making him go numb.

But at the same time, there is relief. No longer any confusion about what these contradictory and overwhelming feelings mean. Why he keeps letting Sousuke sleep all over him. Why he caters to the other man’s every whim without ever thinking that his dignity is being compromised.

 

“Hurry up or the food will get cold, Makoto!”

The sound of Sousuke’s voice breaks Makoto’s reverie, and he walks back into the living room, taking a seat at the little dining table placed close to the wide glass doors leading into the apartment’s balcony.

Given their work situation, they both eat all three meals together on most days.

Tonight’s dinner is Makoto’s favorite; curry and rice.

While trying his best to ignore the host of butterflies fluttering about in his stomach and savor the food properly, Makoto glances over at Sousuke. And catches Sousuke looking right at him. There is an awkward exchange of small smiles, and both of them go back to their food.

Afterwards, they bump elbows while taking the dishes to the sink. Makoto offers to wash, as Sousuke prepares some tea. He thinks he should leave, but his feet refuse to listen to reason.

So he stays for tea and homemade chocolate pudding.

 

 Sousuke has recently started dabbling in desserts even though he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth. But until tonight, Makoto hasn’t considered this odd.

“You really don’t have to make dessert every night, Sousuke. I know you don’t like it.” Makoto mumbles with a mouthful of pudding, looking over at Sousuke shyly.

“Oh well, you always end up going out for some shitty store bought dessert. It isn’t good for you, you know. Homemade is better than that crap at least.” Sousuke’s cheeks show the slightest tinge of red as he tries to explain himself.

 

There is something growing between them. Something that has always been present, but remained evasive until now. It blossoms through the apartment on this night, falling into place, connecting them in a way they never thought possible.

They keep stealing glances at each other, smiling furtively, like hunted animals inevitably attracted to the bait offered by the hunter.

 

And after dessert, it’s the most natural thing in the world that Makoto stays over, as he did the night before, and the one before that, and so on.

It’s perfectly natural for Sousuke to remove his t-shirt and sweats and get under the covers first, as he always does. For Makoto to follow suit, wearing Sousuke’s t-shirt and boxers to bed. For Sousuke to lift the covers then, and lean over, and kiss Makoto’s neck. For Makoto to clutch onto Sousuke’s arm, unwilling to let go.

 

“If this is…If you don’t want this then…you should stop me now, Makoto…” The nervousness in Sousuke’s voice makes him sound so vulnerable, so alone.

 

It’s Makoto who kisses Sousuke first, taking his face between his hands, pulling him down, tracing his lips with an eager tongue.

The kiss untethers something wild and fiery inside both of them.

The room is soon filled with the sound of their mutual desire.

The night deepens, and so does their lust.

 Makoto’s shirt is pushed up, caught in his mouth, his exposed nipples slick and raw from being worried too much by Sousuke’s teeth. The borrowed boxers are bunched up around his right ankle, as Sousuke’s lips wrap around his hardness, teasing slowly.

Light bursts across Makoto’s eyes as he climaxes, panting and heaving.

Makoto is still trying to regain coherence when he is pulled up by the waist, and pushed onto all fours. One wave of pleasure has barely washed over him, before another starts building up, with Sousuke’s tongue tasting his entrance, slurping lewdly.

In the quiet room, the wet sounds are magnified, echoing against the walls along with Makoto’s own moans. Lube-slicked fingers stretch him open before Sousuke invades his body. He goes in slowly, asking if Makoto is fine, afraid of hurting him.

Impatient, burning with such need for the other man that he has no care for the difference between pleasure and pain anymore, Makoto pushes himself back, taking Sousuke’s cock inside, drunk on desire.

Sousuke’s hands on his hips dig into his flesh. He knows- even as his body trembles and his heartbeat races- that he will wake up with dark-hued bruises blossoming against his pale skin. The thought of being marked by Sousuke in this manner makes his blood hasten tumultuously, blanking out his mind, making his knees give way, and he collapses onto his stomach, cumming all over Sousuke’s satin sheets.

He’s barely conscious when Sousuke turns him over, straddles him, and spills his own lust all over Makoto’s chest and stomach.

He barely hears the whispered confession as Sousuke cleans them both up and falls asleep beside him, a possessive arm thrown across Makoto’s body.

 

 

Morning dawns lazily, the rain having turned to a light flutter of snow during the night.

Makoto wakes up on his own, looking lost, feeling drowsy, tired. His hips ache and it’s hard for him to sit up, but he manages it somehow. The man sleeping next to him, sprawled on his stomach, stirs and wakes up slowly.

The smile he gives Makoto is neither nervous nor awkward.

Makoto has seen that smile before, while Sousuke used him as a mattress. He’s wished to see it again, like this, with both of them awake.

And his wish has come true.

Today must be blessed. And the night before too.

 

“Happy birthday, Makoto.” The sleepy words take him by surprise.

Of course, with the events of last night, he has completely forgotten that he turns 23 today.

But how does Sousuke know?

As if aware of the question in Makoto’s eyes, Sousuke smiles again, blushing a little this time.

“I found out through Nagisa. He let me look at your profile a week after you started working with me. I just…I wanted to know you better.”

“Since the beginning?” Makoto wonders aloud.

“First sight and all that, you know.” Sousuke admits, raising himself on his elbows, his lips slightly parted, as if begging for another kiss.

“I never would have guessed.” Makoto laughs, leaning down, leaning closer, letting himself be kissed.

And Sousuke is on top of him, smiling, tangling their fingers together.

“If I didn’t make you run errands for me all the time, you’d leave. And I couldn’t have that, could I? I’m sorry I acted like an ass.”  Sousuke places a light kiss on the tip of Makoto’s nose.

“You could have just, you know…” Makoto closes his eyes, sighing at the closeness of their bodies.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I have no social graces.” Sousuke’s lips brush against Makoto’s forehead this time.

“Was that handjob a confession then?” Makoto feels so comfortable here, in this moment. He wants to drown in Sousuke’s eyes, treasure his smile.

“Sort of.” Sousuke’s lips finally find Makoto’s, and desire slips between them again.

 

 

The sound of their laughter, their pleasure, rings inside Sousuke’s apartment like a sacred hymn.

Outside, the snow falls and falls.

The years will turn, and return them to this moment again and again.

Sousuke will write stupidly emotional poems about his lover and never publish them.

He will learn to bake Makoto’s favorite cakes.

He will learn to smile more and more, and surprise himself with how much love he has inside his heart, and how truly and deeply loved he is.

And every year, on his birthday, Makoto will always think back on the day his sweetest wish came true.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was partially inspired by Junjou Romantica. I'm sure anyone who's watched/read it will have already recognized the similarities.
> 
> And yes, Makoto stops being Sousuke's assistant after two months, and is a great success in the children's books department. Sousuke and Makoto move in together after dating for 6 months, and live happily ever after with two adopted children (a boy and a girl) and a motley troupe of overfed cats. The end.


	23. Sunflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very, extremely belated birthday drabble for Mila!  
> Sorry it took me forever to complete this. It went in a rather different direction, but it's still about Sousuke and Makoto doing art, kinda.   
> I hope you like it! (It's pure fluff with a touch of angst)

It’s a field of sunflowers, nodding their heads complacently in a late spring breeze, caught in enraptured stillness under the bluest summer sky.

Fluffy white clouds saunter through the still air like herds of complacent, woolly sheep. 

The grass is greener than the greenest green ever seen by human eyes.

Everything about the painting is blindingly, suffocating bright.

Even the frame is sparkling white, like a freshly painted fence encircling a pristine suburban house.

Sousuke can’t help but shade his eyes against its overwhelming colors as he stands in front of it.

Yet he can’t stop staring at its intensity either, though he can name about 10 basic flaws in the work simply by glancing at it. 

The person who is responsible for it probably knows absolutely nothing about art. 

But try as he might, Sousuke cannot tear his eyes away from it. 

 

Sousuke’s so caught up in staring at it that he is almost startled out of his skin when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to sneak up on you or anything” The voice positively sparkles, cascading like light out of the speaker’s mouth.

Once more, Sousuke finds himself staring, mouth slightly open, looking most certainly like a huge dork. 

But how can he help it?

The boy standing next to him, smiling as brightly as the sun shining in the painting in front of Sousuke, is breathtakingly beautiful.

There is no other word to describe the emerald-like eyes, quivering like two still pools of water, embedded in a pristinely angelic face.

And that smile.

Such an innocently murderous smile.

The full, upward arching of two pinkly plump lips almost knocks Sousuke off his feet. 

He gets a clear impression of a bowl of fresh strawberries in summer as he continues staring at the vision of loveliness in front of him. 

He knows he probably looks like a fool, but he cannot seem to close his gaping mouth, or look away from the unknown boy (whose smile is starting to falter just a little bit, most likely as a result of Sousuke’s unabashed staring). 

 

“Errr, so do you like my painting then?” The green-eyed boy tries to make conversation, rubbing the back of his head, trying not to make the situation any more awkward than it already is.

And still, Sousuke cannot seem to get any words out of his mouth.

Flustered, his face heating up uncomfortably, Sousuke simply turns around and runs for it. 

He can feel the pair of green eyes fixed on his back, and incoherent words trying to call out to him, but he runs on, picking up pace as he exits the building. 

He only stops when he’s out of breath, and collapses on the nearest bench.

 

Sousuke is almost done with University. 

Just one more year to go. 

And he has been a good boy, just like he is supposed to be. 

He is a dutiful student at the Economic department, preparing for a bright future, getting ready to take over his father’s business. Then what the hell possessed him to venture into the Art department today? He promised his father, didn’t he? He swore to himself he would leave all that nonsense behind. All that pointless rubbish…

Sousuke Yamazaki is no longer driven by his silly, childish desires.

He is a responsible grownup, and he knows that art is not a career. And that loving another man is unacceptable.

 

All of a sudden, it becomes too overwhelming.

Tears blur his eyes.

Everything he has lost, everyone he has left behind- it all comes rushing up from his heart, and gets caught up in his throat. 

His own muffled cry of pain startles him. Sousuke has kept it all inside for so long, gotten so used to living with the burden of his heartache, that he feels he will drown in its wake now.

 

“A-Are you okay? You dropped your wallet as you were ummm leaving. So I sort of followed you.” The green-eyed boy sits down beside him on the bench, emanating a comforting sort of warmth that immediately melts the icy cold wrapping its thin fingers around Sousuke’s neck.

His throat feels raw, as if he’s been sitting alone in a dark place for the last 3 years, screaming for someone to come save him.

He feels like if he speaks now, every wall of defence he has built around himself will crumble like dust, and leave him defenseless.

So he sobs quietly, trying to stop himself from what his father would have considered a shameful display of weakness. 

There is a hand patting his back gently, reassuringly. Sousuke has not felt the touch of another human being in what feels like a century.

Almost instinctively, Sousuke leans against the sturdy frame of the boy sitting next to him. He feels an arm around his back, wrapping him up, pulling him into a space of comfort and safety. 

“It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. Let it out. I’ll stay with you.” The voice is sweet as a spring breeze, with the drowsing heat of a late summer sun beaming within it, seeping through every pore in Sousuke’s body. 

Sousuke would like to fall asleep here, and wake up years later in a world overgrown with sunflowers, reaching up to a sky as blue as the ocean. He would like to never move away from the pureness of this moment, relying on a stranger who doesn’t feel like a stranger at all.

But the stranger with green eyes insists on taking him home. 

Sousuke mumbles out an address, and lets the other boy- who is almost as tall as he is- guide him to his cramped little apartment near campus. 

 

“I didn’t expect you to have such a clean place, you know. You give off kind of a messy, lone wolf sort of vibe. The kind that probably make old ladies want to mend your socks and make you curry for dinner.” The green-eyed boy laughs a little nervously, his arm still around Sousuke.

There was no reason for him to hold Sousuke during the walk back from campus, but somehow neither of them could seem to disentangle their bodies.

But now there is no need for them to be together like this, so they awkwardly break apart.

Sousuke stares intently at the floor, heating up with embarrassment as the reality of what he has just done sinks in.

Honestly, being 21 and crying like a child, then letting a complete stranger (no matter how piercingly beautiful his eyes are, or how good it felt to be close to him) walk him home as if he was drunk. What was he thinking?

He tries to imagine his father’s look of disappointment, but all he can see is a beautiful boy with a dazzling smile and grass-green, sparkling-water eyes.

 

“Errr, I’m sorry for that display. You really didn’t have to walk me all the way back here.” Sousuke offers a few words of apology, frantically trying to think of way to get this boy to stay near him for as long as he possibly can.

“Don’t worry. I couldn’t just leave you by yourself in that state. Not after I caught you looking so intently at my pathetic attempts at art. Oh, I’m Makoto by the way. Nice to meet you Sousuke. Did I get that right? Sorry I looked at your student id to see who the wallet belonged to.” The boy replicated Sousuke’s nervousness, shuffling his feet, and smiling nervously. 

“Yes, it’s Sousuke. You painted those sunflowers, right? That wasn’t pathetic. They were beautiful.” But not as beautiful as you, Sousuke adds in his head.  
“Oh, that’s…You don’t have to compliment me. My professor tells me I’m hopeless you know. But I can’t help it. Painting cheers me up, so I took art as an elective. Don’t mean to make a career out of it or anything, so I’m not too bothered about people criticizing it. It’s the first time anyone’s called my work beautiful, so I find it rather hard to believe you. But somehow I feel like you actually mean it, and…Look at me going on and on. I should leave now. You need to take a bath and have a good night’s sleep.” Makoto smiles at Sousuke, stumbling out his words at bullet train speed. 

Yet he shows no signs of wanting to leave.

Sousuke wonders how pathetic it would sound to beg Makoto to hold him again as he falls asleep. 

He compromises by asking Makoto in for dinner, as payback for returning his wallet and bringing him home.

To his delight, Makoto heartily agrees.

 

It feels strange to cook for someone else after such a long time. 

Makoto flutters about him, asking if Sousuke needs any help, almost slicing his finger open while chopping tomatoes for the salad. Instead of being bothered by his constant hovering, Sousuke finds himself smiling at Makoto’s antics.

They sit down to a simple meal of soup, rice, fish, and salad. 

But Makoto looks as if he’s having the best dinner of his life, complimenting every single bite he takes. 

Sousuke’s cheeks go just a little red at each word of praise. He feels a cozy sort of warmth gushing inside his chest. It feels like being wrapped up in his favorite blanket during a winter night, while a storm rages outside. It feels safe and soothing. It feels like being home. 

 

After dinner, Sousuke brings out a couple of cold beers.

They sit around on the floor, talking about nothing and everything.

For some reason, talking to Makoto feels natural. Sousuke spills everything about his past in a haze of alcohol and something that can only be called a newfound infatuation with a pair of green eyes. 

He talks about his first boyfriend, and stolen kisses behind the school gym. 

About getting caught, and the sharp crack of his father’s belt.

About the piercing pain of first heartbreak, worse than any beating his father could have given him.

About canvases dripping black paint like congealed blood, ripped through with a blunt kitchen knife.

About despair, giving up, losing hope.

And then finding it again, shining golden and green in a flawed painting of a field full of sunflowers.

He doesn’t remember when he stops talking and falls asleep.

 

He wakes up on the floor, his head resting comfortable against something firm.

Struggling awake, Sousuke thinks he can hear the faint pounding of a heart underneath him.

He can’t tell if it’s the sound of own heartbeat or someone else’s. 

It takes him a few minutes before he can sit up and rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Even though Makoto is fast asleep on the floor, his left arm is still wrapped around Sousuke’s waist.

 

In Sousuke’s still-dark apartment, the world still feels half-formed, lost in half a dream. 

He finds himself placing a light kiss on the sleeping boy’s forehead.

 

While breaking eggs to make a rolled sweet omelette for their breakfast, Sousuke wonders why this sudden intimacy between him and Makoto feels so natural.

He finds himself thinking back on something his mother used to say- about red bits of thread tying you to your soulmate. And how once you’d found that person, it would feel like you had always known them. 

Sousuke isn’t sure he believes in that stuff.

But as he looks at Makoto- still sleeping peacefully on the floor, dreaming about sunflowers maybe- Sousuke thinks he can see a glinting ray of light, golden tinged with green, threading out between the two of them, joining his heart to Makoto’s.

Sousuke smiles at his own silliness, feeling his heart beating just a little faster than before.

He thinks then, of a half-finished painting lodged at the back of his closet.

Something Sousuke couldn’t rip apart or throw away- a souvenir of the life he used to live. 

In his memory, the canvas is streaked with teal-ish blue, and black, and grey- dull, hopeless, and pallid.

 

Sousuke goes to wake Makoto up, gently shaking him, laughing out loud in a burst of light as Makoto throws out his arms, still half-asleep, and pulls Sousuke into a bear hug, asking for 5 more minutes of sleep. 

Listening to Makoto’s beating heart again, feeling the warmth of his body, Sousuke thinks that a bit of green and a hint of gold is just what his painting needs to be completed, to finally come to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last soumako drabble I will share on ao3. I'm looking to wrap up shop soon, so I won't be extending my works here any more than I need to.


	24. The Two of Us in Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the Doukyuusei animated film.

 

 

 

**_Sousuke in Summer_ **

Summers are lazy, full of light, and incapacitating.

Everything slows down, seemingly caught in some sort of fever dream you cannot wake from.

Your white button-down uniform shirt sticks to your back, glazed with sweat. You hair clings to your forehead, you smell of chlorine from the pool, and of deep woods in early spring, I suppose.

Leaning back, hands resting against the hot sidewalk concrete, you laugh.

My heart beats faster than it should at the way your green eyes ripple with gold.

Like staring at the sun’s heart.

Falling is easy.

And I fall harder than ever with no one to catch me.

Summer’s heat spirals through my body, burning for you.

I steal your first kiss.

Your eyes glaze over, and you taste like blue popsicles.

I can see your collarbones trembling, and a single droplet of sweat resting in your cupid’s bow.

Holding hands is easier than it should be.

Summer nights are made for your lips to be kissed by mine.

 

**_Makoto in Autumn_ **

You hide all the time, all the time.

You wince at my touch, and I die at yours.

It was easier in the summer, when everything was soft and slow. No hard edges to anything. The sun’s heat melted our boundaries. Our bodies burned bright as fireworks over the gleaming ocean.

The sky is darker now.

And the lips that kissed me with such lingering ease in the summer are hard and closed up.

You won’t tell me anything.

You walk next to me, but you feel miles away.

Sharing an umbrella together in the late afternoon, a raindrop catches in your eyelash.

Such a simple thing- and I know I will remember you like this for as long as I live.

Our fingers lightly brush against each other.

Hard hands, cold with rain.

It feels like I am waiting for you to come back to me.

Waiting with every breath in my body.

 

**_Sousuke in Winter_ **

You wear earmuffs patterned with little white kittens.

Your nose is all red from the cold, but you smile as you watch the snow fall.

When I finally find the grace to kiss you again, I can taste hot chocolate.

Our gloved hands grasp desperately together.

I have a thousand confessions stuck in my throat.

I have read our love in old poems, and in stories where everyone dies at the end.

We hide from our fathers. We steal kisses in corners where our mothers will not find us.

I do not want it to be like this.

I do not want _you_ like this.

Holding you close, feeling your arms tighten around me, I try to remember what it felt like in the summer.

When your white shirt clung to your sunburnt skin and your green eyes glistened with the secrets of our first love.

I would like to remember you in summer.

That is the memory I want to keep with me.

 

**_Makoto in Spring_ **

I ripped the second button from my white shirt and hid it in my pocket.

I am such a coward, so I waited for you to ask me for it.

I imagined what I’d say to you, and the kiss we would share under a drifting sea of sakura petals.

I have waited long enough now.

Waiting for the train to leave, surrounded by my family, my friends, I convince myself not to look for you.

But how can I help it?

How can I stop wanting you, wishing for you, when your kiss still burns my lips, the skin on my throat, my fingertips?

When you finally appear, we look at each as if we had never lived through the summer.

We smile, we shake hands.

Such casual acquaintances, so good at playing make-believe.

 _Good luck_ , you say.

 _See you around_ , I wave at you.

The train departs.

Rain in late spring.

The sakura branches are already bare, stripped of their fragrant weight.

 

**_The Two of Us in Summer, Again_ **

When we see each other again, so many summers have come and gone.

There is someone at your side, and another’s hand tugs at my sleeve.

We smile, greet each other politely, exchange numbers.

We meet for a drink, then two, then three.

We talk about routine, we talk about our friends. We talk about everything but ourselves and our lovers.

It’s already too late, isn’t it?

But our hands touch anyway, and electricity surges.

The city’s heat is different. Not at all languid. There is an urgency to it.

We feel our flesh catching fire.

We lie, we hide in cheap hotel rooms, we leave each other’s marks on our bodies, we get caught, we break the hearts we promised to protect.

 

 

 

Life begins again in a small apartment with one second-hand fan.

Late August’s heat at its worst.

Skin slick with sweat, lips tingling with ice.

Summer ends, and finds us again.

Broken, pieced back together.

Grown up, and no longer blameless.

Partners in crime, sharing the guilt of a love too heavy to bear alone.

Bound together with the memory of a summer’s kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	25. True Love Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Maggie wanted angst, and I was listening to the Fleet Foxes last night.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cdN2bfov9JQ

 

 

 

He is an old, worn man now. His brow is creased with wrinkles, his back is bent, his bones ache when it rains.

The strength and virility of his youth is no more than a fading dream.

The palace echoes with the laughter of his grandchildren, and the strained voices of their flustered attendants, worried about disturbing the old King’s peace. The little princelings and princesses flock around their grandmother, the old Queen- a much more approachable figure than their stern old grandfather- his cold teal eyes always looking into the distance as if searching for something long left behind.

The Queen and the King, both greying with age now, have come to feel a vague fondness for each other. The years spent together, the children who grew up to break their hearts and make them proud by turns, the hopeful arrival of their grandchildren- all this has given them a sense of camaraderie, a mutual understanding that they were never able to foster during the early years of their forced union.

They were both so young then- the Queen all fiery and full of passion, the King withdrawn and sullen. They could have been allies even then, but chose to see each other as enemies. And life was more difficult that it had to be.

 

With every passing day, the present seems less real, and the past glitters like a mirage, haunting the old King’s waking hours, as well as his sleep.

He finds himself slipping in and out of daydreams- disjointed, swirling images of his youth, and his manhood sweeping past him; a macabre procession of the lost.

The battles he won, and those he lost. The strong haunches of his favorite horse, the lovers that came and went through his bedchamber, the pitiful eyes of his enemies as they trembled before the wrath of his steel blade.

It all seemed so important, all those years ago.

His Kingdom, his Crown, his Honor.

He did his duty by them all.

He paid all his debts, brought glory to his name, and handed over the reins of the Kingdom to his eldest child- a capable, calculating woman who inherited her mother’s charm and her father’s strength.

 

And now, at the twilight of life, he shakes off his kingly cloak, and puts away his crown, and gives himself away to his memories.

And amidst the swirling, silvery threads of his past, there is a hint of gold.

It lives deep in his heart, and still binds his soul in iron chains.

Regret and heartache, unmatched pleasure and unbearable pain.

The oldest story in the book.

 _True love lost_.

 

The night they first met- he remembers every constellation in the darkling sky above them still.

Every details are etched in his mind.

He can recall precisely the soft timbre of his lover’s laughter, the soft sound of his breath, slightly ragged with dance and wine.

He remembers the exact shade of green shining in the boy’s eyes.

He remembers everything, especially the things he would most like to forget.

 

How long were they together?

A day, a month, a year?

Every moment spent with his lover contained a hundred lifetimes.

The King lived and died with every kiss he laid upon his lover’s lips.

 

The King was neither young nor old when he fell in love.

His obsession with the green-eyed boy wasn’t something he could have called the folly of youth.

He was married then, and the father of two.

The Queen, smart as a whip, had chosen a companion for herself with cautious care. An innocuously pretty chambermaid that no one would look twice at.

But the King was a foolish man.

 

His lover did not belong to a noble family. There was no reason for him to be by the King’s side. And yet he lingered within the palace walls, in the King’s bedchamber, in the pleasure gardens, the colonnades.

He danced beautifully, weighed down by silks and gold.

He sang like a nightingale.

He glittered unevenly like an unpolished jewel.

His skin was like powdered pearls under the moonlight.

He fucked like a wild animal in heat.

 

The King was blinded by his love for the green-eyed boy.

His days and nights were spent wrapped in rapture, encircled in the arms of his paramour.

He forgot his Kingdom, his Crown, his Honor.

 

The courtiers whispered of witchcraft.

The chambermaids spoke of enchantments and love potions.

Who was this lowly youth, without a name, without a penny, to lay claim to a King?

Words can be sharp as knives, words have power.

But the King had been too blind to see that then.

 

That night, a storm had raged.

He had lingered too deeply in his cup of red wine, and slept late into the evening.

He was woken up by the Lord Chamberlain, dazed with sleep and drink.

It took him a while to understand what the commotion was about.

 

When they brought the dead youth to the King's chamber, his pearlescent skin had darkened.

His full, pink lips were tinged with blue.

His eyes were open, like empty, lightless windows.

They told him the boy had drowned.

But the King knew his lover feared the dark waters, and never went to the lake by himself.

 

 

Still, the King did not weep.

He did not mourn for his lover.

They buried the boy in an unmarked grave, shadowed by the rose garden where he used to sing, beside the lake that claimed his life.

No one was questioned, no one was punished.

There was no Achillean wrath, no suicidal passion.

Nothing but an icy emptiness.

 

 

The King's eyes turned hard as stones.

He’d had lovers before, but none came after.

And the years went by, the stars grew cold, and the constellations changed.

 

 

Now the old King walks along a narrow garden path, overgrown with scarlet summer roses, making his way to the lakeside.

Evening deepens, and the waters of the lake redden with the light of the setting sun.

By the shore, the old King falls to his knees.

Half a century gone, but the ache in his heart is as fresh as the day he lost the one thing he would have died to keep.

He lets the tears fall, and calls out a name into the night.

The Moon looks down on the kneeling old man, and pities him.

The Wind stirs the lake’s surface, and an old song echoes through the rose garden.

Soft, golden laughter shivers through the silvery darkness.

Ghostly shadows of dancing limbs, and beckoning hands rustle through the sleeping roses.

 

_A pair of green eyes._

_A burst of golden life._

They find the old King kneeling by the lake, his sightless eyes greeting the dawn.

Against the wishes of her dutiful daughter, the old Queen orders a simple burial.

He is laid to rest beside the lake, next to the drowned boy.

An unmarked grave, and a King’s final resting place.

Side by side, sleeping beneath the earth, under the cold light of long-dead stars.  

 

 


	26. Happy Birthday Sousuke!- A Story in Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I felt like doing something for my grumpy son-in-law's special day.  
> Sorry for the silliness, I didn't have time for a full-length drabble.

                                                                                                

 

 

 

 

 

> **_Makoto met Sousuke for a special drink on his birthday. They ordered Sakura flavored cocktails to compliment Makoto's pretty pink outfit, picked out especially for Sousuke's big day. Sousuke might look all grumpy, but inside, he's just a giant dork who enjoys floral-themed drinks, and loves his boyfriend with all his heart. Sousuke's heart beat faster as he tried to imagine what Makoto would look like without his dress. The evening deepened into night, and the two lovers went home, looking forward to what was coming next._ [In case you're wondering what they were looking forward to, it's sex. They're going to go home and bang each other]. **
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> **_They didn't waste any time after getting home. They started with a flurry of kisses and lots of ass groping, and then Makoto's dress came right off. As did Sousuke's jersey._ [If you're wondering why Sousuke wore his Samezuka swim team outfit for his birthday, I can't give you any answers. What goes on in that grumpy dork's mind is a mystery. I think it's because he never gave up hope that he would one day be able to swim again. And if that day came, he wanted to be ready for it]. _Anyway, turns out Makoto was wearing a cute pink lace bralet with a bow on the back_ [I don't have time to sew tiny lingerie okay, give me a break] _, and pristine white undies. Sousuke soon had Makoto sitting on his lap, getting all hot and heavy._ [I could go on and on about how hard their cocks got, and who gave the first blow job, but these plushies don't have dicks. Trust me, I've checked]. **
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> **_Sousuke kissed Makoto's fluffy cheek, and made a move almost immediately by sticking a hand right into Makoto's undies. Makoto blushed, sighing deeply at the way his horny boyfriend was pawing lustfully at him. Makoto hoped he wouldn't burp during their special time. He had a little too much cake before._ [It was a chocolate cake. We all know how Makoto gets around chocolate]. **
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> **_Soon, Makoto's undies were hanging sexily off one leg. Makoto blushed harder than ever before as Sousuke moved on to play with his fabulous boobs. Off came the lace bralet, and out popped the tiddies. Sousuke was too busy admiring Makoto's chestal area to hear him burp, which was a relief for Makoto. Despite his flustered, almost completely undressed state, Makoto wondered if it would be okay to have leftover cake for breakfast._ **
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> **_Makoto finally stopped thinking about chocolate cake once Sousuke managed to remove all his clothes. Placing a bold kiss right on Sousuke's face, Makoto cheekily put his hand in Sousuke's jammers, ready to get naughty._ [Disclaimer: Those damn jammers are sewed on and it's a pain to get them off. I'm sorry]. **
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> **_Excited and super horny, the birthday boy pushed Makoto down on the bed, ready to get it on. Their clothes_ [except Sousuke's jammers ofc] _were piled up on the floor, rumpled up all sexily. All embarrassment forgotten, the two lovers got down to business. Smutty business. Oh, how smutty it all was. How I wish I could tell you all about it. After all the sexing, they fell asleep in each other's arms. Makoto had a weird dream about Sousuke turning into a giant slice of chocolate cake that talked with a French accent, and when makoto gave it blowjob, chocolate icing came out of his dingdong. Sousuke dreamed about winning the Olympics and  then celebrating his victory by banging Makoto on live TV._**
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> **_The next morning, Makoto woke Sousuke up with a special kiss on his special place, while wearing Sousuke's Samezuka jersey and nothing else. Sousuke realized how Makoto was the best birthday present anyone could ever receive, and pull him onto his lap again, confessing his eternal love, and making Makoto blush._ **
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> **_Makoto soon took charge, pushing Sousuke down and riding him hard, still wearing the Samezuka jersey. It turned Sousuke on like you wouldn't believe._ [If you're wondering as to how they managed to have sex with Sousuke's jammers still on, please refer to aforementioned disclaimer]. _In the middle of sex, Makoto suddenly remembered his dream and blushed super hard. Then he thought about how Sousuke's cum tasted as good as chocolate icing if not bette_ r [which is probably a huge lie, but love is blind etc]. _At this naughty thought, he blushed even harder, and spurted all over Sousuke's boobs and face. Sousuke loved every second of it._**
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> **_It all ended with a sudden reappearance of Superseme Sousuke, claiming Makoto's fluffy butt for his own._ [Superseme Sousuke is a macho macho manly man, and the bowtie is just part of his whole manly deal. Don't ask me to explain the logic behind its sudden appearance. I don't make the rules].  _Thus Sousuke's birthday sex finally came to an end. It was a good birthday. Sousuke was happy. He let Makoto finish the cake for breakfast and pretended not to hear Makoto's loud ass burp._ [P.S. Sousuke loves everything about Makoto, burps and all] _._**
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> **_~FIN~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering what kind of a person has time for this sort of thing, the answer is me.


	27. The Legend of the Tachibooty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pirate Sousuke! Tachibooty in peril! Smut ahoy!!  
> P.S. Proceed with caution, b/c this is another superseme Sousuke drabble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is for jeanowo, the procurer of SouMako goods from Japan! (I'm sorry it took so long. It isn't exactly plot-oriented, but I hope you like it). 
> 
> Based on this official art:  
> https://ton.twitter.com/i/ton/data/dm/733456435065954308/733456435091144706/Y90xgjDI.jpg  
> https://ton.twitter.com/1.1/ton/data/dm/733456439641923587/733456440329834496/n_Q5VriK.jpg  
> And this beautiful fanart by Zelzius:  
> https://twitter.com/ZeIziuS/status/651320203909857280

**_ Prologue _ **

A seaswept gust crept in through the open window, rustling furtively amongst the curtains like a careless thief.

In the sky, a full moon glimmered like a golden galleon, adrift on a sea of clouds.

Through the shadow of a dream, Makoto Tachibana caught a glimpse of a pair of teal eyes. They smirked at him, taunting his uncovered, sleeping body, drifting closer, almost floating toward him through the darkened room, like twin stars burning in the night sky.

Thin, cold lips touched lightly against his mouth, taking advantage of his sleepy defencelessness.

A silvery, intrusive sensation shivered under his skin, pooling in the pit of his stomach. It felt like someone had set the sea afire.

Before he could sit up in his bed, before he could call for the servants, or shout for help, the intruder disappeared. Jumped clean out of Makoto’s bedroom window, vanishing like a ghost in the night.

Lingering for a few moments between awake and asleep, Makoto Tachibana wondered if he was in the middle of a dream. Touching his lips lightly as if to trace the phantom kiss. Then he sank back into sleep.  

 

In the morning, when he heard his mother complaining about one of the servants leaving the door to his grandmother’s study open, Makoto paid it no mind.

All he could think about, while pretending to sip his bitter coffee (and imagining it to be hot chocolate instead), was the stranger in his dream. Teal eyes reflecting the turmoil of a storm at sea, windswept hair, and lips that felt like ice and fire, all at once.

Makoto felt his cheeks burning with an unknown emotion. A fleeting sense of shame and a fierce hunger for more.

For a kiss that burned and froze him, all at once.

 

**********

 

For as long as he could remember, Makoto Tachibana had wanted to sail the high seas. As if playing a scene out of an old adventure story, Makoto would sit for hours on the floor of his grandmother’s library, poring over maps of the known world. His grandmother always told him stories of distant places she had visited in the prime of her years- islands out in the middle of the ocean that were actually sleeping monsters, forests deep as the night, mountains so tall their jagged peaks seemed to pierce right through the sky.

Makoto always dreamed of the day he would able to follow in her footsteps, become an adventurer, and command a ship of his own.

But that never happened.

Not after he almost drowned in the lake by his family’s summer villa when he was 13, scared his mother half to death, and understood that water could just as easily take life away as give it. Instead, he was forced to live a peaceful, undisturbed, and very adventureless life by his well-meaning (but over-anxious) parents.

He was never very clever, but he had a good heart, and was always eager to help people. His father started taking him along to meet potential business clients, knowing that Makoto had a natural, unpretentious ability to draw in people, mesmerize them, and want them to linger around him.

But Makoto did not care much for the endless parties, the parade of well-dressed men and women who talked only about boring stuff and smiled fake smiles at him.

True, there were always excellent desserts and sweet wines to be had at such parties, but other than the promise of rich chocolate cakes and strawberries slices floating in pink champagne, Makoto preferred to stay home, surrounded by the people he loved.

And there were still the maps in his grandmother’s study.

Despite the deep-seated fear of water, the old seafaring ambition burned steadily in his heart. In his dreams, he would see himself sailing amidst a sea of clouds, borne on the night wind, drifting past the moon. And always by his side, standing a little too close, was a dark-haired man, with a pair of teal eyes- starlike and cold. The dream would haunt him for weeks at a time before vanishing away like mist in the morning sun.

But it always came back.

Every time Makoto thought he had purged himself of all his childhood fancies- the treasure maps, the unknown lands, and the sweetly aching sensation of that phantom kiss- it would all come rushing back to him while he slept.

 

And so it was, with the coming of autumn just before his 20th birthday, that Makoto found himself on a tradeship with his father.

It was supposed to be a very short journey across a rather small portion of the South Sea, just across the peninsula, to have a look at a new enterprise his father had in mind. Makoto had insisted on going along despite his mother’s concern. He hadn’t been near water for years, and felt his cowardice growing within his heart like black mold. A short journey on a small vessel seemed just the thing to try and start the process of overcoming his fear.

And it all seemed like a very sensible plan until their third night at sea.

The waves rocked the ship back forth steadily- a careful mother watching over her sleeping infant.

Makoto slept, fidgeting in a nest of furs and blankets, trying to ignore the fact that the only thing keeping him safe from the dark, suffocating tentacles of the deep sea was some wood.

Through dreams of smirking sea creatures that mocked and leered at him from afar, there clattered a cry that echoed through the hull of the ship, and woke Makoto up.

_Pirates!_

Still half-asleep, trying to figure out if he was awake or not, Makoto felt something cold slip up against his neck.

Gasping, he looked up.

The teal eyes burned through him like cold stars.

“Don’t try to act smart, and you won’t get hurt, understand?” The dark-haired stranger’s voice whispered roughly in Makoto’s ear, sending a single, snake-like shiver down his spine.

Makoto nodded, swallowing dryly, suddenly aware of the fact that he was wearing nothing but a thin nightshirt. Before he could try to wrap one of the blankets around himself, Makoto was yanked out of bed by the stranger, taken out of his cabin, and hauled above deck.

A number of strange men and women were gathered around the ship’s crew. Makoto’s father was on his knees, pleading with their leader to spare the lives of the crew and take what they wanted.

“Sensible man, you are. That’s exactly why we’re here. No unnecessary murder and rampaging, that’s what I always say. Alright people, you heard the man! Take what you want, and let’s let these nice folks get back home, shall we?” The Pirate Queen voice rang sharp and clear, and her underlings hastened to obey their leader.

Tossing around her red hair, she then turned her attention to Makoto and the dark-haired pirate.

“What have you got there Sousuke? A toy?” There was a gleam of amusement in her eyes as she eyed Makoto’s semi-naked state, and the way he trembled in his captor’s arms, trying to struggle against the knife still placed against his throat.

Before Sousuke could answer, Makoto’s father let out a cry of despair at the sight of his son in such seemingly grave danger.

“You said you would spare us! Please, please, tell your man to let my son go. You can have anything you want! Please!” The old man reached out a shaking arm towards his son, tears clouding his eyes.

The knife at Makoto’s throat went slack immediately. Instead, a strong arm gripped him around the waist, pulling him back before he could try to run toward his father.

“I’m not going to hurt your son, old man. Calm down.” Sousuke dropped the knife onto the deck, to show he meant what he said.

“Now, now. Let him go, Sousuke. We’ll find you a pretty boy at the next port. My treat.” The Pirate Captain looked even more amused, as Sousuke tightened his grip around Makoto’s waist defiantly in response.

Makoto could sense the possessive determination of his captor. And his fear evaporated in an instant, as another feeling took hold of his captive body.

The thickly muscled arm coiled around his waist like a python, the intoxicating scent of the stranger- musk and brine and polished wood- it all cast a spell on Makoto’s senses.

A sensation he had not experienced in a long while slithered back into his body unsuspectingly. He felt his legs trembling with the weight of this thrilling, mesmerizing feeling. The dark-haired pirate moved his arm against Makoto’s waist to pull him closer, and he felt the thin cloth of his nightshirt slide softly against the skin of his thighs, exposing him even more than before. The chill autumn wind above deck played mercilessly with his body, and he felt his nipples grow hard, their nubs threatening to tear through the thin fabric covering them. Makoto was vaguely aware that the cold had less to do with the painfully erect nubs on his chest, than the pirate’s second hand, which was now gently resting on the exposed flesh of his left thigh.

The excitement of this ‘adventure’ made Makoto forget that there were people watching him. He wanted more of this wild sensation.

When he heard his father’s voice, begging the Pirate Queen to release his son, Makoto came back to his senses. It was like having his body doused in cold water. The slow sweep of flaming desire ceased immediately. He struggled against the grip of his captor, trying desperately to cover himself up.

“Okay Sousuke, now be good and release the poor kid. He looks ready to wet himself from fear.” The Pirate Queen patted Mr. Tachibana’s head gently, attempting to reassure him. The gesture was entirely ineffective. Makoto’s father only wailed louder.

Sousuke smacked his lips loudly, quite close to Makoto’s right ear, as if getting ready on feast on his favorite snack.

Once again, the strange surge of desire shot through the feelings of shame and fear. Makoto was sure if this man were to carry him off into one of the cabins and play with his body all night, he would not object to it in the least.

“Alright, alright. I’m letting him go. Here.” Before Sousuke released Makoto’s body, he made sure to feel every inch of it that his hands could reach without removing the flimsy nightshirt Makoto was wearing.

Trembling all over, no longer sure what he was feeling, Makoto fell to his knees. Sousuke smirked, looking at him from above.

“Perfect position for you, isn’t it?” Sousuke licked his lips as he winked at Makoto.

Realizing that he was face to face with the pirate’s (rather bulgy) crotch, Makoto blushed and turned away quickly.

But Sousuke leaned down for a split second, grabbed Makoto’s face, turned it toward his own, and kissed him.

Makoto’s arms fell limply to his side. Every fibre of his being wanted the pirate’s body. He could hear his father’s shocked cries, the Pirate Queen’s suggestive whistle, the waves crashing against the ship- but none of it mattered.

The kiss tasted like a delicious concoction made of wine, ocean water, and moonlight.

It could have gone on for an eternity, and Makoto would not have done anything to stop it.

But it ended.

Makoto was left panting and breathing heavily on the deck, clutching his chest.

Above him, going farther away from him now, was a pair of teal eyes, as brightly piercing as twin stars.

 

There was no chance of anyone escaping, not when the pirates had seized all the lifeboats, and were heavily armed, while the clipper’s crew had nothing more than a few a decorative swords and daggers. The trip was meant to be a short and safe one. No one had ever heard of pirates striking at trade ships so close to the coastal region before.

The prisoners were taken below deck, down into the storage quarters, and locked up. Makoto was given a large fur-lined coat by the Pirate Queen to cover himself up against the cold. And the very obviously lewd stares of most of the pirates. (And some of the crew).

Makoto couldn’t face anyone at all. His face still burned with shame at the way he had reacted to the pirate’s kiss.

He lay down in a corner, pretending to sleep, ignoring his father’s concerned queries.

He tried to stop thinking about the teal eyes and the taste of that liquid kiss, but it was all in vain.

He was almost certain that this impetuous pirate was the same man he had been dreaming about since he was 16.

He wanted to know how it could be that his dream lover had now materialized in front of him, as a pirate named Sousuke. He had so many questions that he wanted answered.

And then there was the fact that he was still reeling from the physical closeness he had just experienced, and how he wanted more.

He had always been such a good, careful boy.He had been pursued by both men and women, but he had always waved them away, smiling shyly, apologizing innocently, telling them he was not ready for the ‘big one’.

He had kissed other people before, but no one else had set his body on fire like this.

He wanted more.

He wanted that rough, uncouth pirate to rip off his nightshirt and fuck him until he could no longer stand.

The intensity of the desire scared him. But it was also exhilarating.

Sousuke was the ocean, and Makoto wanted to drown fearlessly in its overpowering current.

 

So he stood up, the coat wrapped around his body carefully to hide the budding hardon making the hem of his nightshirt wet.

The rest of the ship’s captured crew, including his father, had fallen asleep.

Makoto tiptoed quietly over them, and climbed the rickety wooden stairs, leading up to the deck. The door was locked so he knocked lightly on it, asking to be let out.

An over-excited pirate with striking orange hair opened the door and asked him what he wanted. Makoto whispered that he wanted to relieve himself, and there was no facility to do so downstairs. This was a lie, but the stupid orange-haired pirate was too absorbed in trying to catch a glimpse of Makoto’s exposed body to realize this.

Before Makoto could advance his plan any further, the Pirate Queen arrived.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the seductress of the South Sea. Are we looking for someone particular to seduce, or will anyone do?” She slapped the orangey pirate’s butt quite harshly, and he snapped back to his senses.

“Well, I just…It’s just that I…” Makoto suddenly felt very stupid and very silly.

But the Pirate Queen winked at him, and pointed out exactly where Makoto could find what he was looking for.

 

Sousuke was sitting on the bed in what used to be Makoto’s cabin until a few hours ago, sharpening the edge of his blade with another blade. He was wearing nothing but a pair of black leather pants. His muscles gleamed in the candlelight. Makoto wondered what they felt like, how hard they were. He was fairly well-built and tall himself, but Sousuke’s body still felt overwhelming to him. He wanted to feel its weight on top of his own.

When Sousuke finally looked up and acknowledged Makoto’s presence with a smirk, Makoto was overcome with a sudden urge to run far away. He felt like a stupid little lamb that had willingly walked into the wolf’s den, ready to be gulped up.

He turned and tried to run outside, but Sousuke grabbed at him and held him still.

“What’s this then? Have you come to return my coat? Or did you want to continue what we started before?” Sousuke jerked Makoto’s body closer to his own.

Normally, Makoto would be dressed in honorary naval gear that noble men and women often wore on sea voyages. He could see the oversized hat, the tall boots, the green coat with its gold buttons and epaulets discarded on the cabin floor. He was very thankful that the pirates had attacked at night. He felt that he would have no excuse to be able to wear Sousuke’s fur-lined coat if he had been wearing his own uniform.

Makoto made himself whimper helplessly, trapped in Sousuke’s arms. He blushed hotly. He squirmed his body around. He used every trick in the book that he knew of to get Sousuke to become as heated up with desire as he was.

And Sousuke turned out be a very easy target.

The coat covering Makoto fell to the floor rather quickly, and he was thrown onto the bed.

For a few moments, Sousuke just stood by his side, admiring the way Makoto’s body shone like a pearl through the see-through white nightshirt. He saw the evidence of Makoto’s lust hiding underneath, threatening to give him away.

Makoto added more weight to his seduction by making soft moaning sounds, rubbing his thighs together, and trying to haplessly pull down his nightshirt to cover the pink tip of his semi-hard cock which was already leaking precum.

Sousuke’s own leather pants were starting to feel very uncomfortable and he would have ripped them off right away, but he got very distracted by the sight of Makoto’s nipples- deep pink and clearly visible through the nightshirt.

So the nightshirt got merciless ripped off Makoto’s body, and all the buttons clattered off onto the floor as Makoto pretended to fight off his would-be pirate lover. Sousuke started off by sucking on Makoto’s sweet buds, admiring the size of his large areolas, testing the sensitivity of his chest.

Makoto no longer needed to fake his moans as Sousuke’s tongue slurped up his chest, and his fingers flicked Makoto’s hard nipples, until he was lost between competing sensations of pain and pleasure.

Makoto felt like he was losing the game, but he didn’t mind it at all.

When Sousuke started kissing him, writhing on top of Makoto’s body, rubbing the bulge inside his leather pants up against Makoto’s cock, Makoto’s body twitched uncontrollably into a strong orgasm that almost undid him.

The world slipped away for a moment and everything turned to moonlight and sparkling stars.

When Makoto gained awareness of his surroundings once again, he was straddling Sousuke’s lap, who was now stark naked, his tongue tracing the curves of Makoto’s earlobes one by one. Meanwhile, Sousuke’s large hands were slowly caressing the small of Makoto’s back. How this man had found out Makoto’s weakest spots and was exploiting them at once was a mystery.

Makoto’s cock was pressed up against Sousuke’s hard abs, while Sousuke’s rather sizeable, hard, throbbing, and very slick dick was nestling under Makoto’s bubble butt, rubbing lightly between Makoto’s ass cheeks, poking at the entrance hidden between them.

Makoto had played with himself before. He owned a dildo, which he had procured secretly with the help of his friend Nagisa, and he was used to riding it when he was alone in his room at night.

The dildo was well and good, but Makoto wanted the real thing so badly. Sousuke’s thing, to be precise.

“Unnhh, please, put it in…I can’t hold on…Please…” Makoto draped his arms around Sousuke’s neck to steady himself. He felt like he would faint from the desire raging in his body.

“Gotta make you ready for my cock first, pretty boy.” With those rough words (which nonetheless turned Makoto on even more), Sousuke shoved three of his fingers inside Makoto’s mouth.

Makoto sucked on them hungrily, knowing exactly what would happen next. He thought about the taste of Sousuke’s cock, and made a mental note to enjoy it at the first possible opportunity.

The wet fingers then opened up Makoto’s entrance for Sousuke’s huge pirate dick, as Makoto moaned and wriggled around on Sousuke’s lap. Sousuke licked Makot everywhere he could reach- the curve of his neck, the outline of his lips- while his fingers moved rhythmically inside Makoto.

“You seem used to it, rich boy.” Sousuke seemed to have a list of badly thought-out nicknames for Makoto. If Makoto wasn’t so intensely spurred on by every single word Sousuke uttered in that thick, husky, pirate voice of his, he would have made fun of his limited vocabulary.

“You’re…You’ll be the first. My first….” And Makoto’s words trailed off into an intense cry of pleasure and Sousuke’s fingers found his weak spot.

But Sousuke wasn’t going to let Makoto off so easily. Makoto found himself pushed off Sousuke’s lap and back on the bed.

“Now then, let’s see you get my dick nice and wet for your hole, shall we?” Sousuke grabbed Makoto’s hair and pushed his face down into his lap.

Gasping for breath, so close to cumming that it hurt, Makoto desperately sucked on the tip of Sousuke’s cock. For someone as big as him, the way Makoto’s tongue moved was surprisingly dainty. With little, kittenish licks, Makoto made Sousuke’s cock wetter and bigger than before, running the tip of his tongue on the underside, sucking expertly on it, lapping up the precum. Sousuke could barely believe it was Makoto’s first time.

In fact, the dildo Makoto owned had gotten lucky many times before Sousuke’s dick.Makoto had practiced on it several times, preparing for this night. All that training was proving to be very handy.

Happy with his own performance, Makoto turned his eyes up to look at Sousuke as if asking for approval- cock still in mouth, cheeks flushed, eyes tearing up just a little from all that hard work of licking and sucking Sousuke’s manhood.

This seemed to snap a nerve in Sousuke’s head.

He pulled Makoto off his cock by the hair, and had him kneeling face down on the bed.

His fingers went back inside Makoto’s reddish, slightly gaping hole. Makoto muffled the sounds of his pleasure in a pillow, ready for his first proper cock.

And in went Sousuke, like a ship laying anchor in a cozy little harbour.

With every other thrust, Sousuke would spank Makoto’s big, firm ass with both hands until Makoto was crying with pleasure.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, slutty boy?”

_Thwack!_

“Yes! Yes! I’m your slutty boy! Give me more!”

_Thwack!_

“You like it when you get spanked huh?”

_Thwack!_

“Yes! Oh yes, Mr. Pirate! I do!  I’m a naughty little slut! I need you to punish me!”

_Thwack!_

 “I’ll make you my wife and then I’d spank you every night. Would you like that?”

_Thwack!_

“Yes please! Oh Mr. Pirate, please make me your wife! I’ll be such a good, slutty wife!”

_Thwack!_

 “Oh yeah! Shake your hips for me, just like that!”

_Thwack!_

“More! More! Oh Mr. Pirate! I’m cumming! I’m gonna…”

_Thwack!_

_Thwack!_

 “I’ll make your ass so red you won’t be able to sit down for weeks.”

_Thwack!_

“Anh! Ahhhh! Sousuke cum inside me!”

“Oh fuck, you’re so tight, oh yeah! I’m gonna….”

_Thwack!_

And so on, etc., until Sousuke came inside Makoto, and collapsed on top of him.

 

Makoto must have fallen sleep in Sousuke’s arms. He woke up a few hours before dawn, and saw that Sousuke had cleaned him up and put him to bed.

They were both wrapped in a gentle embrace, covered up in Sousuke’s fur-lined  coat.

Sousuke opened his eyes and smiled at Makoto.

Makoto suddenly remembered every filthy thing they had done together, and blushed, hiding his face against Sousuke’s chest. Sousuke kissed the top of his head and rocked him gently in his arms.

Makoto felt like he had lived through a stormy night, only to wake up on the shore of a warm, tropical island, rocked gently by the warm waves of the ocean.

Laying side by side in bed together, they both spoke softly to each other for hours, talking shyly, all the ferocity and eagerness of their sex forgotten.

When Makoto mentioned something about seeing Sousuke in a dream years ago, Sousuke laughed a bit guiltily.

“That wasn’t a dream, Makoto. I broke into your house.”

Shocked, Makoto sat up in bed, exposing his shoulders and chest. Sousuke pulled him back into a hug, and told his story then.

 

And this is Sousuke’s story:

Sousuke Yamazaki had been a wild sort of boy. His parents had died when he was still a boy, and he was raised by distant aunt.

Not wanting to burden his relative, who barely had enough money to feed her own children, Sousuke had run away at 13, and hopped a frigate headed east, working as a cabin boy. During his time with the sailors, Sousuke had heard stories about many great adventurers. The one who caught his imagination the most, however, was Captain Tachibana. She had been famous for her courage as well as her beauty. Green-gold eyes and lovely, flowing brown hair. Tall and splendid. She had sailed through storms, fought against pirates, armies, and sea monsters, broken many mermaid hearts, and hunted for secret treasures in dangerous places. A true Queen of the Waves, she had been. Sousuke dreamt about her often, painting a picture in his head of the woman he aspired to be like when he grew up.

Then one day, when he was 17, the ship he was on dropped anchor by the city that Captain Tachibana hailed from. Spurred by curiosity, Sousuke had gone to see where his idol used to live. All he wanted was a glimpse of the rooms she had graced with her presence while she was still living, but the servants of the Tachibana estate had turned him away.

Before Sousuke left, he caught glimpse of a beautiful face playing in the garden. Green-gold eyes, and shining brown hair. It was as if his idol had been reborn right in front of his eyes.

Sousuke returned that night, determined to have another look at the boy who so resembled the portraits of his idol that he had seen in various dockside alehouses and good-luck charms carried by various sailors that Sousuke never had the money to buy for himself.

Damn the charms! Sousuke was determined to have the real thing.

So in he crept after nightfall, and found his way into Captain Tachibana’s study. He spent a quiet hour in the dark, looking at her books, her maps, her little treasures with the moonlight guiding his eyes. He wanted to keep a memento for himself. And he had just the thing in mind.

After wandering into several wrong rooms, Sousuke finally found the place he was looking for.

There, in a bower of pristine white and pale green sheets, lay the boy with the beautiful face he had seen in the garden. The bedroom window was open wide, and the sheet covering him had been swept aside by the wind, exposing the boy’s upper body to the silvery moonlight.

Sousuke stole a kiss from Makoto’s lips with only the full moon as his witness.

It was his first kiss.

It was Makoto’s first kiss too.

And then the boy opened his sweet green eyes, as if still caught in a dream.

And Sousuke ran, swearing that he would come back one day, and steal away what was his.

He fell in with a crew of pirates later that year, hoping to become stronger and wealthier, always thinking of a pair of green eyes that shone like twin gold suns in a sweetly pretty face.

 

Sousuke had just finished telling Makoto his story when the Pirate Queen barged in with Makoto’s father in tow. Sousuke quickly tightened his embrace around Makoto, afraid of letting go.

But he had no need to worry.

Makoto sat up, covering his chest with Sousuke’s coat to hide all the pirate bite marks on his skin, and announced to his father that he had finally found a husband.

As Sousuke pulled Makoto in for a very deep, indecent sort of kiss, Makoto’s father let out a little shriek.

He always knew Makoto would be taken away by one man or another, but he had imagined that his son-in-law would be a nobleman, or a rich merchant. Even a prince!  After all, Makoto was a true beauty! A refined, rare pearl! The shiniest jewel in the Tachibana treasure chest!

Never had he though that his son would end up as a pirate’s bride.

With that thought in his head, Mr. Tachibana swooned and fainted.

[But he paid for the wedding after all, even though half the guests were pirates].

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
